
Class ', I 

Book .11 9 
Copyright N° 

COPyR^Kf DEPOSIT. 




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Etched "by Jas. D. Smillie 
After a. Sketch from life by F. O-CDarley 
at Sunnyside July 1848 . ■ 



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-^- S. Poi^ . Si:)e/v/i J^oo^ froTTu i/ic on^fui-aZ tfi- ike pos^sejsioru o^ 



IliVIXGIAXA: 



, A MEMORIAL 



OF 



W A S H I X CI T X I E y I X G. 



— Tread light! v on his ashes, re men of genius 

for he was your kinsman : 

Weed his grave clean, ve men of goodness,— for he 
was your brother. 

Tristbax Shasdt, Chap. CLXXXTI. 



XEW TOEK: 

CHAELES B. EICHAKDSOi^, 

1860. 



^^■v 

> 



^%\ 






<^\e,0 



c^5s 



%..- 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, 

By Chakles B. Eichardson, 

In the Clerk's OiSce of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 

District of New York. 



CONTENTS. 



I. MEMORANDA OF THE LITERARY CAREER OF WASHINGTON IRVING. 

By Evert A. Dutokinck 5 

Original Letter from Mr. Irving concerning liis Birth-place — Eeminiscences of Allston — 
Knickerbocker and its Keception— Life of Campbell — Passages from Moore's Diary 
— John Neal's Blackwood Criticism — "Columbus" and the Spanish Books — Mr. 
Brevoort's Notes — Preface to Mr. Bryant's Poems — Letter to " The Plaindealer" — 
Speech at the Irving Dinner — History of "Astoria" — Life of Washington — Copy- 
rights — Artist Friends — A Traveller's Visit to the Alhambra — Characteristics. 

II. THE FUNERAL OF WASHINGTON IRVING. By W. Francis Williams.... 22 

The Scene at Tarrytown — Church Services — The Procession. 

III. PROCEEDINGS OF THE NEW YORK BOARD OF ALDERMEN AND 

COUNCILMEN 26 

The Mayor's Message and Resolutions. 

IV. RESOLUTIONS OF THE ATHEN^UM CLUB 28 

Speech of the Rev. Dr. Osgood. 

V. PROCEEDINGS OF THE NEW YORK HISTORICAL SOCIETY 29 

Remarks of the Hon. Ltjther Bradish. 

Address of President King. 

Address of Mr. George Bancroft. 

Characteristics of Washington Irving, the Address of Dr. John W. Francis. 

VL PROCEEDINGS OF THE MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY 36 

Address of Henry W. Longfellow. 
Mr. Everett's Address. 
Letter from George Sumner. 

VIL SUNNYSIDE. A Poem. By Henry Theodore Tuckerman 40 

Vin. WASHINGTON IRVING. An Editorial of the Evening Post 40 

IX. THE LATE WASHINGTON IRVING. An Editorial of the Richmond (S. L) 

Gazette 41 

5. MR.TRVING'S RELIGIOUS CHARACTER. By the Rev. Dr. Creighton 42 

XL PA.SSAGE FROM A DISCOURSE BY THE REV. JOHN A. TODD 43 

XII. THE REV. DR. CHAPIN'S REMARKS 44 

XIIL POSTHUMOUS INFLUENCE. A Passage from a Discourse by the Rev. Dr. 

William F. Morgan 44 

iii 



Contents. 

XIV. GOLDSMITH AND IRVING. By Geoege Washington Gkeene 4G 

XV. IRVING DESCRIBED IN VERSE. By James Russell Lowell 40 

XVI. VISITS TO SUNNYSIDE. By N. P. Willis 47 

Sunnyside in the Summer of 1857 — A Drive tlirongh Sleepy Hollow — A Later Visit, 
in 1859 — A Memorandum or Two made after attending Mr. Irving's Funeral. 

XVIL HALF AN HOUR AT SUNNYSIDE. By Theodore Tilton 50 

XVm. A DAY AT SUNNYSIDE. By Osmond Tiffany 53 

XIX. ANECDOTE OF WASHINGTON IRVING 54 

XX. WASHINGTON IRVING. By George William Curtis 55 

XXI. WASHINGTON IRVING. By Frederick S. Cozzens 66 

XXIL TABLE-TALK. By James Grant Wilson 58 

XXIII. ANECDOTES. By Frederick Saunders 59 

XXIV. ICH ABOD CRANE. A Letter from Washington Irving 59 

XXV. COCKLOFT HALL. A Reminiscence 60 

XXVL IRVING PORTRAITS 61 

XXVII. MR. IRVING'S OBJECTION TO PUBLIC DINNERS 62 

XXVIII. ANECDOTE OF WASHINGTON IRVING. From The Spirit of the Times . . 62 

XXIX. TWO POEMS BY WASHINGTON IRVING 63 

XXX. AMERICAN LITERARY COMMISSIONS IN LONDON IN 1822. An Origi- 
nal Letter by Washington Irving 63 

XXXL LIFE AND LETTERS OF IRVING 64 



ILL USTRA TlOIfS. 



I, ORIGINAL PORTRAIT SKETCH OF WASHINGTON IRVING AT SUNNYSIDE, IN 
JULY, 1848. Drawn from Life by Felix O, C. Darley, and Engraved by Smillie. 

IL FAC SIMILE PAGE OF THE MANUSCRIPT OF THE SKETCH BOOK. A Leap 
OF "Rip Van Winkle," from the Original in the possession of J. Carson 
Beevoort, Esq. 



Errata. — p. xiii, in lines at bottom dele " And ;" for " foemaii," read " soldier ;" for " heard," read " told." 
iv 



IRVINGIANA: 



A MEMORIAL OF WASHINGTON IRVING. 



MEMORANDA OF THE LITERARY CA- 
REER OF WASHINGTON IRVING.* 

BY EVEET A. DUTOKINOK, 

"Washington Irving was born April 3, 1783, 
in tlie city of New York. As there has been 
some little discussion as to the particular spot of 
his birtli, it may not be amiss, writing for an 
liistorical magazine, to produce the following 
decisive testimony on the subject. 

In a letter, the original of which is before us, 
to Mr. Henry Panton, dated Sunnyside, Feb. 15, 
1850, Mr. Irving states precisely tlie place of his 
birth. '' The house in which I was born was 
No. 131 William-street, about half-way between 
John and Fulton streets. Within a very few 
weeks after my birth the family moved into a 
house nearly opposite, which my father had 
recently purchased; it Avas No. 128, and has 
recently been pulled down and a large edifice 
built on its site. It had been occupied by a 
British commissary during tlie war; tlie hroad 
arrow was on the street door, and the garden 
was full of choice fruit-trees, apricots, green- 
gages, nectarines, &c. It is the first home of 
which I have any recollection, and there I passed 
my infancy and boyhood." 

Mr. Irving was the youngest son of a merchant 
of the city, William Irving, a native of Scotland, 
of an ancient knightly stock, who had married 
Sarah Sanders, an English lady, and been settled 
in his new country some twenty years. 

A newspaper correspondent a few years since 
narrated an anecdote of this early period, of a 
pleasing character, which, unlike many things 
of tlie kind, has, we believe, the merit of truth 
in its favor. The story, as related, is given from 
the lips of Mr. Irving at a breaktast-table in 
Washington City. "Mr. Irving said that he re- 
membered General Washington perfectly. There 
was some celebration, some public aft'air going 
on in New York, and the General Avas there to 
participate in the ceremony. 'My nurse,' said 
Mr. Irving, ' a good .old Scotchwoman, was very 

* A portion of this paper is maile up from a previous sketch, 
pablisticd in "The Cyclopedia of American Literature." 



anxious for me to see him, and held me up in her 
arms as he rode past. This, however, did not 
satisfy her; so the next day, when walking with 
me in Broadway, she esjiied him in a sliop, she 
seized my hand and darting in, exclaimed in her 
bland Scotch : — "Please, yt)ur Excellency, here's 
a bairn that's called after ye!" General Wash- 
ington then turned his benevolent face full upon 
me, smiled, laid his liand upon my head, and 
gave me his blessing, whicli,' added Mr. Irving 
earnestly, 'I have reason to believe, lias attended 
me through life. I was but five years old, j^et I 
can feel that hand upon my head even now.' "* 
The early direction of the mind of the boy 
upon whose infant head the hand of Washington 
had thus been laid, was much influenced by the 
tastes of his brotiiers who had occupied tlieiii- 
selves witli literature. Of these, William, who 
subsequently became united witli him in the 
joint authorship of Salmagundi^ was seventeen 
years liis elder, while Peter, the editor of a later 
day, was also considerably his senior. With the 
guidance of these cultivated minds and sound 
family influences, tlie youth had the good fortune 
to fall in with a stock of the best old English 
authors of the Elizabethan as well as of the Au- 
gustan period, tlie stud\' of which generously un- 
folded his happy natural disposition. Chancer 
and Spenser Avere his early favorites; and a bet- 
ter training cannot be imagined for a youth of 
genius. His school education Avas the best the 
times afforded. Though something may be said 
of the defects of the city academies of those days 
in comparison Avith the present, Ave are forced to 
remember that however prodigally the opportu- 
nities of learning may be increased, the receptive 
faculties of a boy are limited. There may be 
more cramming in these times at the feast of the 
sciences ; but we question Avhether tlie digestion 
is very materially improved. Few men, at any 
rate, have ever shown themselves better trained 
in the pursuit of literature than Washington 
Irving. The education Avhich bore such early 
and mature fruit must luiA'e been of the right 
kind. 

* This anecdote appeared in the Buffalo Courier, in the 
winter of 1S53. 



SiK "Walter Scott's Letter. — Life of Oatvtpbell. 



birth to naught but unjn-ofitable ■weeds, may 
form a humble sod of the valley, whence may 
spring many a sweet wild flower, to adorn my 
beloved island of Manna-hatta!" 

Some time after the publication of Kniclcer- 
tocker^ a copy was sent by the late Mr. Henry 
]5revoort, an intimate friend of the author, to 
Sir Walter Scott. It drew forth the following 
cordial reply, dated Abbotsford, Api-il 23, 1813 : 
"My dear Sir, I beg you to accept my best 
thanks for the uncommon degree of entertain- 
ment which I Iiave received from the most 
excellently jocose history of New York. I am 
sensihle that, as a stranger to American parties 
and politics, I must lose much of the concealed 
satire of the piece; but I must own that, looking 
at the simple and obvious meaning only, I have 
never read any thing so closely resemhling the 
stile of Dean Swift as the annals of Diedrich 
Knickerbocker. I have been employed these 
few evenings in reading them aloud to Mrs. S. 
and two ladies who are our guests, and our sides 
have been absolutely sore with laughing. I 
think, too, there are passages which indicate that 
tlie author possesses powers of a ditferent kind, 
and has some touches which remind me much of 
Sterne. I beg you will have the kindness to let 
me know when Mr. Irvine takes pen in hand 
again, for assuredly I shall expect a very great 
treat, which I may chance never to hear of but 
through your kindness. Believe me, dear sir, 
your ohliged and humble servant, Walter Scott."* 

Praise like" this was likely to create a flutter 
ill a youthful breast. Irving had afterwards the 
satisfaction to learn how sincere it was, in per- 
sonal intercourse with Scott. Lockhart, in the 
biography of Sir Walter, tells us that the latter 
had not forgotten tlie Knickeriocker, when, 
in the summer of 1817, Mr. Irving presented 
himself at the gate of Abbotsford with a letter 
of introduction from the poet Campbell. The 
welcome was prompt and earnest; and the pro- 
])osed morning call was changed into that de- 
lighted residence so fondly revived in the "Visit 
to Abbotsford" in The Crayon Miscellany^ and 
largely adopted by Lockhart in the Biography. 
We have heard Mr. Irving speak of this visit 
within the last y&ir of his life with boyish de- 
light. "This," said he, "was to be happy. I 
felt happiness then." So true and generous was 
liis allegiance to the noble nature of Sir Walter, 
who was himself warmly drawn to his visitor. 
Scott thanked Campbell for sending him such a 
guest, "one of the best and pleasantest acquaint- 
ances I have made this many a day." t In the 

* This copy l3 made from a lithographed fac-simile of the 
original. Que or two defecls in spelliug, it will be seen, are 
preserved. 

t Lockhart's Soott, ch. xxxix. 

viii 



later years of Irving at Sunnyside, there was 
much to remind the privileged visitor of the pil- 
grimages to Abbotsford, when the radiance of 
the author of Waverley shed delight on all 
around. 

In 1810 Mr. Irving wrote a biographical 
sketch of the poet Campbell, which was prefixed 
to an edition of the poet's works published in 
Philadelphia, and subsequently was printed, 
"revised, corrected, and materially altered by 
the author," in the Analectic Magazine. The 
circumstance which led to this undertaking at 
that time, was Mr. Irving's acquaintance with 
Archibald Campbell, a brother of the author, re- 
siding in New York, and desirous of finding a 
purchaser for an American edition of O^Connor''s 
Ghild.^ which he had just received from London. 
To facilitate this object, Mr. Irving wrote the 
preliminary sketch from facts furnished by the 
poet's brother. It afterwards led to a personal 
acquaintance between the two authors when Mr. 
Irving visited England. In 1850, after Camp- 
bell's death, when his Life and Letters., edited 
by Dr. Beattie, were about to be republished by 
the Harpers in New York, Mr. Irving Avas ap- 
plied to for a few preliminary words of introduc- 
tion. He wrote a letter, prelixed to the volumes, 
in which he speaks gracefully and nobly of his 
acquaintance with Campbell, many of the virtues 
of whose private life were first disclosed to the 
public in Dr. Beattie's publication. 

One sentence strikes us as peculiarly charac- 
teristic of the feelings of Mr. Irving, It is in 
recognition of this revelation of the poet's better 
nature that he writes, in words of charity, as he 
looked back upon the asperities which beset 
Campbell's career: — "I shall feel satisfaction in 
putting on record my own recantation of the 
erroneous opinion I once entertained, and may 
have occasionally expressed, of the private char- 
acter of an illustrious poet, whose moral worth 
is now shown to have been fully equal to his 
exalted genius." 

Though Mr. Irving in this later essay speaks 
slightingly of the earlier composition as written 
when he was "not in the vein," we have found 
it, on perusal, a most engaging piece of wi'iting. 
A paragraph descriptive of the youthful Camp- 
bell might be taken for a portrait of liimself. 
Indeed, it often happens that a writer, while 
drawing the character of another, is simply ])ro- 
jecting his sympathies, and unconsciously por- 
traying himself. " He is generally represented 
to us," says Mr. Irving, in this description of 
Campbell, "as being extremely studious, but at 
the same time social in his disposition, gentle 
and endearing in his manners, and extremely 
])rep6ssessing in his appearance and address. 
With a delicate and even nervous sensibihty, and 



Ministry of Litkkatuke. — The Skktcii-Eook. 



n degree of self-diffidence that, at times, is almost 
])aintiil, he shrinl<s fi-om the ^lare of notoriety 
wliicli Iiis own works have shed around hiui, 
and seems ever deprecating criticism, rather tliaii 
enjoying praise. Though his society is courted 
by the most polished and enliglitened, among 
whom he is calculated to sliine, yet his chief 
delight is in domestic life, in the practice of 
those gentle virtues and bland affections which 
he has so touchingly and eloquently illustrated 
in various passages of his poems." 

In this memoir of Campbell we meet with a 
beautiful image illustrating the sentiment of 
obligation to British autliorship, which must 
Iiave been entertained, as, indeed, it still is, with 
great force by every ingenuous mind, at the be- 
ginning of the century, when our literature was 
in its infancy. " When we turn our eyes to 
England, from whence this bounteous tide of 
literature pours in upon us, it is with such feel- 
ings as the Egyptian experiences, when he looks 
towards the sacred source of that stream which, 
rising in a far distant country, flows down upon 
his own barren soil, diffusing riches, beauty, and 
fertility." 

_We may here, too, recall a sentence as not un- 
suited to our own times at home, in which Mr. 
Irving, writing in 1815, after ins pen had done 
good service to his countrymen in the war, re- 
cords his sense of tlie peculiar sphere of author- 
ship in its better moods. After describing "the 
exalted ministry of literature to keep together 
the family of human nature," he adds: — "The 
author may be remiss in the active exercise of 
this duty, but he will never have to reproach 
hiniself that he has attempted to poison, with 
political virulence, the pure fountains of elegant 
literature." 

But we must hasten rapidly over the events 
of Mr. Irving's literary life, tliough tempted to 
linger at every turn, so fertile are they in topics 
of pleasure and instruction. 

After the publication of the Enicker'hoclcer^ 
Mr. Irving, turning from the law with little re- 
gret, engaged with two of las brothers in mer- 
cantile business, as a silent partner. In a letter 
to a friend, dated May 15, 1811, he writes :— 
" Since you left us, I have been a mere animal ; 
Avorking among hardware and cutlery. We have 
been moving the store, and I (my pen creeps at 
the very tliouglits of it) have had, in this time of 
hurry and confusion, to lend all the assistance 
in my power, and l)end my indolent and restive 
habits to the plodding routine of traffic." 

The second war with Great Britain then broke 
out, when he took part in the spirit of the day; 
edited the Analectic Magazine, published at Phil- 
adelphia by Moses Tliomas, penning an eloquent 
series of biographies, accompanying portraits of 
2 



the American Faval Captains; and, in 1814, 
joined the military stafl:' of Governor Tomi)kins 
as aid-de-camp and military secretary, witli the 
title of colonel. When tiie war was ended the 
next year, he sailed for Liverpool in the montli 
of May, made excursions into Wales, extended 
his tour to several of the finest counties of Eng- 
land, and to the Highlands of Scotland, and had 
the intention of visiting the continent. The 
commercial revulsions which followed the Avar 
overAvhelmed the house with which he was con- 
nected, and he was thrown upon his resources as 
an author. He accepted his new method of life 
with cheerfulness ; his spirits rose with the oc- 
casion, as he started on a literary career witli 
not unproved powers, and an inward conscious- 
ness of his fitness for the pursuit. 

Rei)airing to London, his excursions and bis 
observations on rural life and manners furnished 
luaterials for some of the most attractive por- 
tions of his Sketch- Booh. He was very much 
struck by the individuality of the English, par- 
ticularly in such as were removed from business 
centres; and found much to study in personal 
peculiarities, wliile at a small watering-place in 
Wales. He met there with the veteran angler 
whom he has so ])leasantly described in a paper 
(^f the Sketch- Bool', which soon after made its 
ai)pearance. The first number was sent from 
London in the beginning of March, 1819, to his 
friend, Mr. Brevoort, in America, with the char- 
acteristic remark that it had cost him "much 
coaxing of his mind to get it in training again." 

The publication was connuenced in New York 
in large octavo pamphlets— a style afterwards 
adopted by Dana in his Idle Man, and Longfel- 
low in his Outre Mer. Shortly after tiie first 
volume had appeared in this form, it attracted 
the notice of the London editor, Jerdan, who 
received a copy brought over from America by 
a [)assenger, and republished some of tiie pajjers 
in his Literary Oazette* A reprint of the wiiole 
w^as in prospect by some bookseller, when the 
author applied to Murray to undertake the work. 
The answer was civil, but the publisher declined 
it. Mr. Irving then addressed Sir Walter Scott 
(by whom he had i>reviously been cordially re- 
ceived at Abbotsford, on his vi.-it in 1817, of 
which he has given so agreeable an account in 
the paper in the Crayon Miscellanij), to secure his 
assistance witii the publislier Constable. Scott, 
in tiie most friendly manner, promised his aid; 
and, as an immediate assistance, offered Mr. Ir- 
ving the editorial chair of a weekly periodica! to 
be established at Edinburgh, with a salary of five 
hundred pounds; but the sensitive author, who 
knew his own mind, had too vivid a sense of the 

* Auti)biograi)li}' of William Jiidah, ii. 2riS. 



Thomas Mooke's Diaey. 



toils and responsibilities of snch an office to ac- 
cept it. He pnt the first volume of the Sketch 
Booh to .press at his own expense, with John 
Miller, February, 1820; it was getting along tol- 
erably, when the bo(jkseller failed in the first 
month. It was a liumorous remark of Mr. Ir- 
ving, that he always brought ill luck to his pub- 
lishers ; though, with the ardor of a good lover 
— a more amiable type of character than a good 
hater — he stuck by them to the end. Sir Wal- 
ter Scott came to London at tliis emergency, 
reopened the matter with Murray, who issued 
the entire work, and tlienceforward Mr. Irving 
had a publisher for his successive works, " con- 
ducting himself in all his dealings with that fair, 
open, and liberal spirit which had obtained for 
him the well-merited appellation of the Prince 
of Booksellers."* Murraj' bought the copyright 
for two hundred pounds, which he subsequently 
increased to four hundred, with the success of 
the work. 

In 1820, Mr. Irving took up his residence for 
a year in Paris, where he became acquainted 
with the poet Moore, enjoyed liis intimacy, and 
visited the best English society in the metropolis. 
Moore's Diary at this period abounds with pleas- 
ant glimpses of Irving in these social scenes in 
Paris — at the dinner-parties of London, in com- 
pany with his intimates, Kenney the dramatist 
and Newton the artist — and in the more general 
society of Holland House, and in other distin- 
guished belles-lettres and social resorts at Long- 
man's and elsewhere, down to "supper at the 
Burton Ale House." Moore, as he himself tells 
us, sought and made the acquaintance of Irving 
at Meurice's table-dliote in Paris. It was in 
December, 1820, and his first impression is thus 
recorded — "a good-looking and intelligent man- 
nered man." They became friends at once, dined 
frequently together in company, and admired one 
another generously. Moore, as usual, is ready 
to ciironicle the compliments, and somewhat 
eager to put upon record his valuable sugges- 
tions. He speaks of Irving's " amazing rapidity" 
in the composition oi Bracebridge Hall, which 
Avas written while he was in the vein. At other 
times he could produce little. Moore tells us 
that some liundred and thirty pages of the new 
book were written in the course of ten days. 
Mr. Irving, however, never liked that spur to 
most authors, being " dogged by the press," as 
be terms it in the preface to one of his most 
agreeable booksy the Life of Goldsmitli, which 
was mostly written and driven through the 
printer's hands within the short period of two 
months. 

Moore, in several instances, claims his "thun- 

* Trefaco to the Kevised Edition of the Sketch-Bouk. 



der." The account of the bookseller's dinner in 
the story of " Buckthorne and his Friends," in the 
Tales of a Traveller, which owes every tiling to 
Irving's handling, Moore says is "so exactly like 
what I told him of one of tlie Longmans (the 
carving partner, the partner to laugh at the pop- 
ular author's jokes, the twelve-edition writers 
treated with claret, &c.), that I very much fear 
my friends in Paternoster Row will know them- 
selves in the picture." Moore tells us tliat he 
told Irving the story of " the woman with the 
black collar, and the h.ead falling off," which he 
had from Horace Smith, which, taking Irving's 
fancy, appeared in due time, as " The Adven- 
ture of the German Student," in the Tales of a 
Traveller. Such reminiscences are the jealous- 
ies of friendship ; they carry with them no taint 
of plagiarism. 

Moore records a pointed rebuke which Cooper, 
the novelist, once gave Rogers, in his company, 
when the poet saying of the Life of Columbiis, 
" in his dry, significant way," that " It's rather 
long,''^ Cooper turned round on him, and said 
sharplj", " That's a short criticism." 

In another passage, Moore, recording a visit of 
Irving to Sloperton, says: — "Took Irving after 
dinner to show him to the Starkeys, but he was 
sleepy, and did not open his mouth ; the same at 
Elwyn's dinner." He adds, what Geofi"rey 
Crayon himself would have accepted as a pane- 
gyric, — " not strong as a lion, but delightful as a 
domestic animal." 

This somnolence of Irving in company was a 
joke of the wits, doubtless exaggerated, but 
probably with some foundation. Yet his sensi^ 
tive organization left him a poor sleeper at night, 
D'Israeli, in his Vivian Grey, is the father of 
this story in his introduction of Geoffrey Crayon: 
"'Poor Washington! poor Washington!' said 
Vivian, writing ; ' I knew him well in London. 
He always slept at dinner. One day, as he was 
dining at Mr. Ilallam's, they took him, when 
asleep, to Lady Jersey's rout; and to see the 
Sieur Geoffrey, when he opened liis eyes ii^i the 
illumined saloons, was really quite admirable, 
quite an Arabian tale !' " 

We find these exaggerated tales of Irving's 
sleepiness in company long kept up as a tradition 
among dull diners-out. Miss Bremer, in 1849, 
in her Homes of the New World, is deliglited 
with his vivacity at table ; perhaps taking the 
excejjtion as a personal compliment to herself, 
for she had heard the old story, without much 
surprise, she says, as dinner-parties generally go. 

Bracehridge Hall, or the Himorists, the suc- 
cessor of The Sketch Book, is a series of pictui'es 
of English rural life, hcjliday customs, and refined 
village character of the Sir Roger de OoverJy por- 
traiture, centring about a fine old establishment 



John Neal's Blackwood Ckiticism. 



in Yorkshire. Tlie characters of Muster Simon, 
Jack Tibbetts, and General Harbottle do credit 
to tiie school of Goldsmitli and Addison. Tlie 
Stout Gentleman, the Village Choir, the delicate 
story of Annette Delarbre display the best pow- 
ers of the author; while the episodes of the 
Dutch tales of Dolph Heyliger and the Storm 
Ship, among the happiest passages of his genius, 
relieve tlie monotony of the English description. 

The winter of 1822 was ])assed by Mr. Irving 
at Dresden. He returned to Paris in 1823, and 
in the December of the following year ])ublished 
liis Tales of a Traveller^ witli tiie stories of the 
Nervous Gentleman, including that line piece of 
animal spirits and picturesque description, the 
B(jld Dragoon, tlie series of pictures of literary 
life in Buckthorne and his Friends — in which 
there is some of his most felicitous writing, 
blending humor, sentiment, and a kindly indul- 
gence for the frailties of life, — the romantic 
Italian Stories, and, as in the preceding work, a 
sequel of New World legends of Dutchmen and 
their companions, built up by the writer's in- 
vention in the expansion of the fertile theme 
of Captain Kidd, the well-known piratical and 
money-concealing adventurer. For this work 
Moore tells us tiiat Murray gave Mr. Irving fif- 
teen hundred pounds, and " he might have had 
two thousand."* These books were still pub- 
lished in the old form in numbers in New York, 
simultaneously Avith their English appearance. 

It was about this time that John Neal, in a 
sei'ies of lively and egotistical papers in Black- 
tcood^ on " American Writers," published rather 
a detailed account of Irving and his writings. 
In the course of it we meet with this personal 
description of Geoffrey Crayon. It is freely 
sketched, but has the rough likeness of a good 
caricature: — "He is, now, in liis fortieth year ; 
about tive feet seven; agreeable countenance; 
black hair; manly complexion ; tine hazel eyes, 
when lighted up, heavy in general ; talks better 
than he writes, when worthily excited; but falls 
asleep — literally asleep in his chair — at a formal 
dinner-party, in high life; half the time in a 
revery ; little impediment — a sort of uneasy, 
anxious, catching respiration of the voice, when 
talking zealously; writes a small, neat hand, 
like Montgomery, Allan Cunningham, or Shee 
(it is like that of each) ; indolent; nervous; ir- 
ritable; easily depressed; easily disheartened; 
very amiable ; no appearance of especial refine- 
ment; nothing remarkable, nothing uncommon 
about him ; — precisely such a man, to say all in 
a word, as people would continually overlook, 
pass by without notice, or forget, after dining 
with him, unless, peradventure, his name were 

* Diary, June IT, 1S24. 



mentioned; in which case — odds bobs! — they 
are all able to recall something remarkable in his 
way of sitting, eating, or looking — though, like 
Oliver Goldsmitli himself, he had never opened 
his mouth, while they were near; or sat, in a 
high chair — as'far into it as he could get — with 
his toes just reaching the floor." 

Neal was the first, we believe, to point out the 
occasional high poetical qualities in Irving's 
style. He stickled for a passage in the " Life of 
Perry," in the AnaJectic Magazine, picturing the 
"apparition" of the sea-fight to the natives on 
Lake Erie: "The bosoms of peaceful lakes 
Avhich, but a short time since, were scarcely nav- 
igated by man, except to be skimmed by the 
ligiit canoe of the savage, have all at once been 
ploughed by hostile ships. The vast silence that 
had reigned for ages on those mighty waters, 
was broken by the thunder of artillery, and the 
aftriglited savage stared with amazement from 
his covert, at tiie sudden apparitioji of a sea- 
fiyld amid the solitudes of the wilderness."* 

Again, after some fine compliments to The 
Sketch Boolc^ we are told " The touclies of poetry 
are everywhere; but never where one would 
look for them. * * The '■dusty Sflendor' of 
Westminster Abbey — the ' ship staggering'' over 
the precipices of the ocean — the shark '■darting, 
nice a, spectre^ through the hlue ^caters,'' — all 
these tilings are poetry. We could mention fifty 
more passages, epithets, words of power, which 
no mere prose writer would have dared, under 
any circumstances, to use. They are like the 
'invincible locks' of Milton — revealing the god, 
in spite of every disguise. * * * When we come 
upon the epithets of Geoffrey, we feel as if we 
had found accidentally, after we had given up 
all hope, some part or parcel which had always 
been missing (as everybody could see, though no- 
body knew where to look for it), of the very 
thoughts or words with which he has now 
coupled it forever. Let us give an illustration. 

" Who has not felt, as he stood in the solemn, 
strange light of a great wilderness; of some old, 
awful ruin — a world of shafts and arches about 
him, like a druidical wood — illuminated by the 
sunset — a visible, bright atmosphere, coming 
through colored glass — who has not felt as if he 
would give his right hand for a few simple words 
— the fewer the better — to describe the appear- 
ance of the air about him? Would he call it 
s]}lendor? — it isn't splendor: dusty? — it would 
be ridiculous. But what if he say, like Irving, 
dusty splendor? — will he not have said all that 
can be said ? Who ever saw those two words 
associated before ? who would ever wish to see 
them separated again ?" 

* Analectic Magazine, Dec, 1S13. 



Columbus and the Spanish Books. 



Tlie winter of 1825 was passed by Mr. Irving 
in the Sontli of France;* and early in the fol- 
lowing year he went to Madrid, at the suggestion 
of Alexander H. Everett, then minister to Spain, 
for the purpose of translating the important se- 
ries of new documents relating to the voyage of 
Columbus, just collected by Navarrete. Por a 
translation was substituted the History of the 
Life and Voyages of Ghr'istopher Columlnis^ to 
which the Voyages and Discoveries of the Com- 
panions of Columbus were afterwards added. 
The Columbus was published in 1828; and the 
English edition brought its author, with an ex- 
pansion of his fame, a substantial return in three 
thousand guineas. It also gained him a high 
lionor in tlie receii)t of one of the lifty-guinea 
gold medals, provided by George IV. for emi- 
nence in historical writing, its companion being 
assigned to llallam. A tour to the South of 
Spain in this and the following year provided 
the materials for A Chronicle of the Conquest of 
Granada, and The Alhaml)ra, or the Rew Sketch- 
Book. The latter is dedicated, May, 1832, to 
Wilkie, the artist, who was a companion with 
the author in some of his excursions. Mr. Irving 
spent three months in the old Moorish palace. 
lie some time after, in America, published his 
Legends of the Conquest of Spain (in 1835); 
wiiich, with his Mahomet and his Successors 
(18-19-50), complete a series of Spanish and 
Moorish subjects, marked by the same genial 
and ])oetio treatment; the fancy of the writer 
evidently luxuriating in the personal freedom of 
movement of his heroes, their humor of indi- 
vidual character, and the Avarm oriental color- 
ing of the whole. If the author liad any prefer- 
ences for his writings, they were for these fas- 
cinating themes. He abandoned himself to the 
mystical charm of the East — that fertile iileas- 
ure-ground of the imagination, about which still 
hangs sometliing of the childliood of the world; a 
land of idle ease and magical incantations, where 
new generations are constantly entertained with 
the unexluiusted fable. " He loved" (perhaps bet- 

* An idle story of Irving in Italy appears at this time to 
have bt^en cirpul.'ited among the literary triflers in London. 
It found its way into Blackwoud^ii Ma<jazine for August, 1826, 
in the following paragraph : 

"Apropos of extraordinary juxtapositions. The last news 
from Italy is that Wa.-hington Irving is on the point of being 
raarrieil to the Empress Maria Louisa; the Cyclops, General 
Caracambaza, having been dismissed her presence, and the 
whole nobility of Parma having united in a petition that her 
majesty would leave them no longer without a Sovereign. 
Political reasons possibly prevented her from fixing on a Eu- 
ropean : and the Anierican author having been highly intro- 
duced at her court, and really having the mild arid graceful 
manners and exterior that naturally please women, the an- 
nouncement of his good fortune was made to him by her chan- 
cellor, Count Cicognara; and it is stated that the alliance may 
be expected to take jjlace immediately. So much for America. 
With Mrs. Jerome Napoleon, the Marchioness Wellesley, and 
Arrhduke Irving of Harma and Lucea, the Trans-Atliintlcs may 
hope to liavc some future share of iiuropean civilization.'' 
xii 



ter than the poet Collins) "fairies, genii, giants, 
and monsters; he delighted to rove through the 
meanders of enchantment, to gaze on the mng- 
niticence of golden jjalaces, to repose by tiie 
waterfalls of elysian gardens." 

The following anecdotes of the preparation of 
the Columbus, and of these Spanish studies, have 
been communicated to us by Mr. J. Carson Bre- 
voort, the son of Mr. Irving's old friend, who had 
served him with Scott, and in the jniblication 
of the S/ictch Book. Mr. Brevoort, the younger, 
subsequently accompanied him to Madrid as sec- 
retary in his Spanish mission : 

" Lieut. A. Slidell McKenzie (author of a 
Year in Spain and Spain Revisited) was in 
Madrid about the time when the MS. of Mr. 
Irving's Columbus was nearly completed, and, 
contiding in his taste, Mr. Irving begged him to 
read it with a critic's eye. Mr. McKenzie, or 
rather Slidell, as he was then called, did so, and 
returned it, remarking that it was quite perfect 
in his judgment, with the exception of the style, 
which he thought of unequal excellence. Mr. Ir- 
ving was impressed by the remark, and rewrote 
the whole narrative in order to make it uniform 
in style throughout. Mr. Irving afterwards 
thought that its style was not improved by the 
labor thus bestowed on it. 

"While engaged on his Columbus he had such 
frequent occasion to examine into the period of 
histoi'y covering the war with Granada, that his 
interest in the chivalric deeds of the Spanish and 
Moorish knights often tempted him away from 
las work in hand, to peruse the narratives of 
those sturdy warriors' deeds. He at last threw 
Columbus aside for a few weeks, and took up the 
materials which had so interested him, preparing 
the heads of chapters and making notes of the 
sources from which he might glean additional 
facts. After tiie Columbus was tinished, he took 
tliem up, and in a very short time completed Ids 
Conquest of Granada, which many consider a 
masterpiece of romantic narrative. 

" Some other materials, relating to the period 
of Spanish history anterior to the conqut?st of 
Granada, were never published. He was always 
(lee[)ly interested in these matters, and had for a 
long while been making collections, with a view 
to writing a series of works, beginning with a 
History of the Cali])hs, following this up by the 
Domination of the Moors in Spain, and ending 
with the Conquest of Granada. He also wished 
to write the history of Charles and Philip, and 
even had thought of the Conquest of Mexico, 
The materials collected for these last works he 
handed over to Mr. Prescott." 

At a convivial meeting in London of the lit- 
erati, it -was once suggested to Mr. Irving that 
he should undertake a translation of the 'minor 



Edits Mr. Bey.vjstt's Poems in London. 



tales of the author of Don Quivute. If lie luul 
acted ui)on the hint, he would have added a few 
more volumes to the stock of Enyiisli literature: 
for his style would, in a measure, have made 
them his own.* 

In July, 1829, Mr. Irving left Spain for Eng- 
land, having heen appointed Secretary of Lega- 
tion to the American Embassy at London, when 
Mr. M'Lane was minister. He retired on the 
arrival of Mr. Van Buren. Tiie University of 
Oxford conferred on him, in 1831, the degree 
LL.D. 

Before leaving England on his return to 
America, he edited for a London publisher, in 
the beginning of 1832, an edition, the first in 
England, of the Poems of William Cullen Bryant. 
Though unacquainted with Mr. Bryant at the 
time, he was a warm admirer of his writings; 
and when a friend sent hiiu a co])y from home, 
with a desire that he might find a publisher in 
England, he cheerfully undertook the task. A 
publisher was found, who, however, made it a 
condition that Mr. Irving should "write some- 
thing that might call [)ublic attention to it." In 
compliance with tiiis demand for a gratuitous 
service, Mr. Irving prefixed the following dedi- 
catory letter addressed to the poet Rogers : 

"to SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ. 

"J/y dear Sl)\ — During an intimacy of some 
years' standing, I have uniformly remarked a 
liberal interest on your part in the rising charac- 
ter and tV)rtunes of my country, and a kind dis- 
position to promote the success of American 
talent, whether engaged in literature or the arts. 
I am induced, therefore, as a tribute of gratitude, 
as well as a general testimonial of respect and 
friendship, to lay before you the present volume, 
in which, for the first time, are collected together 
the fugitive productions of one of our living 
poets, whose writings are deservedly popular 
throughout the United Stiites. 

"Many of these poems iiave appeared at vari- 
ous times in periodical publications ; and some 
of them, I am aware, have met your eye and re- 
ceived the stamp of your approbation. They 
could scarcely fail to do so, characterized as they 
are by a purity of moral, an elevation and re- 
finement of thought, and a terseness and ele- 
gance of diction, congenial to the bent of your 
own genius and to your cultivated taste. They 
jipiiear to me to belong to the best school of 
English poetry, and to be entitled to rank among 
the highest of- their class. 

" The British public has already expressed its 
delight at the graphic descriptions of American 
scenery and wild woi)dland ciiaracters contained 

* Biographical Notice of Irviiiir, in tlie European JSragazine, 
March, iS'25. 



in tlie works of our mxtional novelist, Coo])er. 
The same keen eye and fresh feeling for nature, 
the same indigenous style of thinking and local 
peculiarity of imagery, which give such novelty 
and interest to the i)ages of that gifted writer, 
will be found to characterize this volume, con- 
densed into a narrower compass and sublimated 
into poetry. 

"The descriptive writings of Mr. Bryant are 
essentially American. They transport us into 
the depths of the solemn primeval forest — to the 
shores of the lonely lake — the banks of the wild 
nameless stream, or the brow of the rocky up- 
land, rising like a promontory from amidst a 
wide ocean of foliage; while they shed around 
us the glories of a climate, fierce in its extremes, 
but splendid in all its vicissitudes. His close 
observation of the phenomena of luiture, and tlie 
gniphic felicity of his details, prevent his descrip- 
tions from ever becoming general and conmion- 
place ; while he has the gift of shedding over 
them a pensive grace, that blends them all into 
harmony, and of clothing them with moral asso- 
ciations that make, them speak to the heart. 
Neither, I am convinced, will it be the least of 
his merits in your eyes, that his writings are 
imbued with tlie independent spirit and the 
buoyant aspirations incident to a youthful, a 
free, and a rising country. 

"It is not my intention, however, to enter 
into any critical comments on these poems, but 
merely to introduce them, through your sanction, 
to the British public. They must then depend 
for success on their own merits; though I can- 
not help flattering myself that they will be re- 
ceived as pure gems, which, though produced in 
a foreign clime, are worthy of being carefully 
preserved in the common treasury^ of the lan- 
guage. I am, my dear sir, ever most faithfully 
yours, Washington Irving. 

'■'■London, March, 1832." 

It is needless to say that the Poems met at 
once with a most cordial reception. Several of 
them had been much admired in England al- 
ready ; but the entire collection established at 
once the claims of the American ])oet. 

A few years after this the late Mr. Leggett, 
in his journal, ITie Plaindealer, made an inci- 
dent connected with this publication tlie subject 
of an unmannerly attack. It seems that while 
the Poems were going through the jjress in Lon- 
don, the publisher strenuously objecte-d to a line 
in the poem entitled "Marion's Men," as pecu- 
liarly offensive to English ears. It reads — 

And tlie British foeman trembles 
When Marion's name is heard. 

Timid objections are often made by publishers, 
and where the integrity of authoiship is con- 

xiii 



Letter to The Plaindealek. 



cerned, should be firmly denied. "Slv. Irviiifr, we 
tliiiik unnecessarily and forfretfnl of an important 
litc-rarv principle, and that he had no autliority 
in the matter, yielded to the publisher, conceding 
to an objection urged with a show of kindness, 
what he probably would not have granted un- 
der other circumstances. The obnoxious word 
" British" was removed, and the line was made 
to read — 

The foeinan treniblss in his camp. 

Mr. Irving was roughly handled in consequence 
by Mr. Leggett, wlio took occasion also, at the 
same time, to charge him witli " preparing, in a 
book ot" his own, one i)ref'ace for his countrymen 
full of amor patrlce and professions of American 
feeling, and another for the London market in 
which all such professions are studiously omit- 
ted." Mr. Irving sent to The Plaindealer a 
l)rompt reply. Tiie change in the poem was 
seen to have grown out of a motive of kindness; 
wiiile the malign charge in the matter of the 
pri'faces was easily put out of the way. The 
iufiignant rebuke shows that the gentle pen of 
(ieotlVey Crayon, when roused by insult, could 
-cope even with the well-i)ractised and somewhat 
reckless energy of The Plaindealer. AVe pre- 
sent this portion of Mr. Irving's letter entire: 

"Another part of your animadver>ions is of a 
much graver nature, for it implies a charge of 
hypocrisy and double dealing which I indignant- 
ly repel as incom[)atible with my nature. You 
intimate that" 'in |)ublishing a book of my own, 
1 prei)are one preface for my countrymen full of 
amor patrice, and professions of home feeling, and 
another for the London nuirket in which such 
professions are studiously omitted.' Your infer- 
ence is that these professions are hollow, and 
intended to gain favor with my countrymen, 
and that they are omitted in tiie London edition 
tlirough fear of olfending English readers. "Were 
I indeed chargeable with such baseness, I should 
well merit the contempt you invoke upon my 
head. As I give you credit, sir, for i)robity, I 
was at a loss to think on what you could ground 
such an imputation, until it occurred to me that 
some circumstances attending the publication of 
my Tour on the Prairies, might have given rise 
to a misconception in your mind. 

" It may seem strange to tliose intimately 
ac(piainted with my character, that I should 
think it necessary to defend myself from a charge 
i>f (liipliriti/ ; but as m.-iiiy of your readers may 
know me as little as you appear to do, I must 
again be excused in a detail of facts. 

" When my Tour on the Prairies was ready 
fnr the jiress, I sent a manuscript copy to Eng- 
land for i)nblication, and at the same time, i)ut a 
copy in the press at New York. As this was my 

xiv 



first appearance before the American public 
since my return, I was induced, while the work 
was printing, to modify the introduction so as to 
exi^ress my sense of the unexjjected warmth with 
which I had been welcomed to my native place, 
and my general feelings on finding myself once 
more at home, and among my friends. These 
feelings, sir, were genuine, and were not ex- 
pressed with half the warmth with which they 
were entertained. Circumstances alluded to in 
that introduction had made the reception I met 
with from my countrymen, doubly dear and 
touching to me, and had tilled my heart with 
atfectionate gratitude for their unlooked-for 
kindness. Li tact, misconstructions of my con- 
duct and misconceptions of my character, some- 
what similar to those I am at present endeavor- 
ing to rebut, had a]>peared in the public press, 
and, as I erroneously supposed, had prejudiced 
the mind of my countrymen against me. The 
professions therefore to which you have alluded, 
were uttered, not to obviate such prejudices, or 
to win my way to the good will of my country- 
men, but to express my feelings after their good 
will had been unecpiivocally manifested. While 
I thought they doubted me, I remained silent ; 
when 1 found they believed in me, I spoke. I 
have never been in the habit of beguiling them 
b}' fulsome professions of patriotism, tiiose clieap 
passports to public favor ; and I think I might 
for once have been indulged in briefly touching 
a chord, on which others have harped to so much 
advantage. 

"Now, sir, even granting I had 'studiously 
omitted' all those professions in the introduction 
intended for the London market, instead of giv- 
ing utterance to them after that article had been 
sent otf, where, I would ask, would have been 
the impropriety of the act? What had the Brit- 
ish imblic to do with those home greetings and 
those assurances of gratitude and afiection which 
related exclusively to my countrymen, and grew 
out of my actnal position with regard to tiiem? 
There was nothing in them at which the IJritish 
reader could possibly take olfence ; the omitting 
of them, therefore, could not have argued 'ti- 
midity,' but would have been merely a matter of 
good taste; for they would have been as much 
out of place repeated to English readers, as 
would have been my greetings and salutations to 
my family circle, if repeated out of the window 
for the benefit of the passers-by in the street. 

"I have no intention, sir, of imputing to you 
any malevolent feeling in the unlooked-for attack 
you have m.ade upon me: lean see no motive 
you have for sucii hostility. I rather think you 
have acted from honest feelings, hastily excited 
by a' misajjprehension of tacts; and that you 
liave been a little too eawr to give an instance 



TiiH Ikying Dixnek. 



of that 'i)lain(k'aling' which you have recently 
adopted as your war-cry. Plaindealiiijj, sir, is a 
great merit, when accompanied hy maL!;nanimity, 
and exercised with a just and generous spirit; 
but if puslied too far, and made the excuse for 
indulging every impulse of passion or prejudice, 
it may render a man, especially in your situation, 
a very ott'ensive, if not a very mischievous mem- 
ber of the community. Such I sincerely hoi)e 
and trust may not be your case; but this hint, 
given in a spirit of caution, not of accusation, 
may not be of disservice to you. 

"In the present instance I have only to ask 
that you will give this article an insertion in 
your paper, being intended not so much for 
yourself, as for those of your readers who may 
have been prejudiced against me by your ani- 
madversions. Your editorial position of course 
gives you an opportunity of connnenting upon it 
according to the current of your feelings ; and, 
whatever may be your comments, it is not i)rob- 
ablo that they will draw any further reply fron) 
me. Recrimination is a miserable kind of re- 
dress in which I never indulge, and I have no 
relish for the warfare of the pen." 

With all the gentleness of Geoffrey Crayon^ 
Mr. Irving was a high-spirited man where honor, 
duty, or the proprieties were at stake. 

We have anticipated, however, the course of 
our narrative; for this correspondence took place 
in 1837. 

Mr. Irving arrived in America, at New York, 
on his return. May 21, 1832, after an absence of 
seventeen years. A public diimer was at once 
projected by his friends and the most eminent 
persons of the city. 

It took ])lace at the City Hotel on the 30th 
May. Mr. Irving had his old friend and literary 
associate, Mr. Paulding, on one side, and Chan- 
cellor Kent on the other. Bishoj) Onderdonk 
said grace, and Dr. Wainwright returned thanks. 
Mr. Gallatin was present, with many foreign 
and native celebrities.* Mr. Vcrplanck was ab- 
sent at the session of Congress. The President 
of the meeting, Ciiancellor Kent, welcomed the 
illustrious guest to his native land, in a speech of 
good taste and feeling. His appreciation of 
Irving's early American ])roductions, and not 
less, of his later, was warm and enthusiastic. 
The History of Diedrich Knicher'bocher has 

* We may add tlie names of others present at this dinner, 
who ottered toasts: Philip Hone, William Turner, Charles 
Kin;;, JudKe Irving, General bantander, Lt.-Gov. Livingston, 
Ciiancellor W;ihvorth, General Scott, Commodore Chauncey, 
William A. J>u<'r, M. M. Noah, Prosper M. Wctmore, James 
Law.<on, Charles ])e l?ehr, Jesse Iloyt. Henry Wlieatoii, Judi;e 
HolTrnan, Le Pay do Chiiumont, Vice Chancellor M'Couti, Garden 
Hotfinan, J. W. Kraiiois, Mr. Oener, C. W. Satiford, \V. A. M.r- 
cein, W. P. Hawes, Captain I)e Peyster, William I.c^'sett, Wil- 
liam H. Maxwell, J. Watson Webb, Professor Kenwick, Samuel 
bwartwout, John Duer. 



never found a heartier eulogist. The venerable 
Chancellor ccniipared it with Rabelais and Swift, 
and brought it off creditably; admiring its 
laughter, its pointed satire, its wit and humor, 
and, above all, its good-nature. Mr. Irving re- 
plied with a touching allusion to rumors and 
suggestions which had reached him abroad, to 
the etfect that absence had imiiaired the kind 
feelings of his countrymen, and that they had 
considered him alienated in heart from his native 
land. He had, he sai<l, been fully disabused of 
this impression, by tlie universal kindness which 
greeted him on his arrival. He then tiu-ned to 
the prosj)erity of the city. "Never, certainly," 
said he, "did a man return to his native jilace 
after so long an absence, under liappier auspices. 
As to my native city, from the time I approach- 
ed the coast I liad indications of its growing 
greatness. "We had scarce descried the land, 
when a thousand sails of all descriptions gleam- 
ing along the horizon, and all standing to or 
from one point, shoAved that we were in the 
neighborhood of a vast commercial emporium. 
As I sailed up our beautiful bay, with a he;irt 
swelling with old recollections and delightful 
associations, I was astonished to see its once 
wild features brightening with populous villages 
and noble ])iles, and a seeming city extending 
itself over heights I had left covered with green 
forests.* But how shall I describe my emotions 
when our city rose to sight, seated in the midst 
of its watery domain, stretching away to a va>t 
extent; when I beheld a glorious sunsiiine light- 
ing up the spires and donies, some familiar to 
memory, others new and unknown, and beam- 
ing upon a forest of masts of every nation, ex- 
tending as far as the eye could reach ? I have 
gazed with admiration upon many a fair city and 
stately harbor, but my admiration was cold and 
inelfectual, for I was a stranger, and had no 
pro])erty in the soil. Here, however, my heart 
throbbed with i)ride and joy as I admired. I 
had a birthright in the brilliant scene before me : 
'This Avas my own, my native land!' 

" It has been asked can I be content to live in 
this country? AVhoever asks that question must 
have but an inade<iuate idea of its blessings and 
delights. What sacrifice of enjoyments have I to 
reconcile- myself to? I come from gloomier 
climes to one of brilliant sunshine and inspiring 
])urity. I come from coimtries lowering with 
doubt and danger, where the rich man trembles, 
and the poor man frowns — where all repine at 
the present, and dread the future. I come from 
these to a country where all is life and anima- 
tion ; where I hear on every side the sound of 
exultation ; where every one speaks of the past 

* The allusion [irobably was to Brooklyn. 



Personal IIistoky of "Astoria." 



with triumph, the preseut witli delight, tlie fu- 
ture witli glowing and confident anticipation. 
Is not tills a coiumnnity in which we may re- 
joice to live? Is not this a city hy which one 
may be proud to be received as the son? Is 
this ni)t a land in which one may be happy to 
fix his destiny and ambition — if possible, to 
found a name? 

" I am asked, how long I mean to remain 
here? They know but little of my heart or ray 
feelings who can ask me this question. I an- 
swer, as long as I live." 

It was some time before the jilaudits ceased 
surticiently for him to utter his toast: "Our 
City — May God continue to prosper it." 

A few months later, in the summer, Mr. Irving 
accompanied Mr. Ellsworth, one of tlie commis- 
sioners for removing the Indian tribes west of 
tiie Mississi[)|)i, in his journey, which he has 
described in his Tour on the Prairies^ published 
in tlie Crayon Miscellnny in 1835. His Abhots- 
J'onl and Ncwstead. Abbey formed another volume 
of the series. In 1836 he published his Astoria, 
or Anecdotes of an Enterprise beyond the Rocky 
Mountains, undertaken by the late Mr. John 
Jacob Astor, between the years 1810 and the 
war with England of 1812. He was attracted to 
the subject not less by an early fondness for the 
character of the trappers and voyageurs of the 
West, into whose company he had been thrown 
in his youth, in Canada, than by his subsequeat 
acquaintance with the projector of the enter- 
prise. He was assisted in the i)reparati()n of 
tliis work by his nephew, Mr. Pierre Munro 
Irving, Many years after this publication was 
issued a statement Avas made, under circum- 
stances which seemed to challenge the attention 
of Mr. Irving, imputing the glorification of Mr. 
Astor as a motive for the work, with the ac- 
companying stimulus of a large sum of money 
paid by tlie millionaire. Mr. Irving availed him- 
self of the opportunity to give the history of the 
book. The letter is of sutiicient interest, involv- 
ing as it does several honorable personal traits of 
character, no less than a detail of literary his- 
tory, to be presented entire. We give it as it 
appeared in the Literary World of Nov. 22, 1851. 



" OOBKEOTION OF A MISSTATEMENT RESPEOTINQ 
' ASTORIA.' 

" To the Editors of the Literary World. 

" Gentlemen— A quotation from Mr. School- 
craft's work in your last number has drawn from 
me the following note to that gentleman, which 
I will thank you to insert in your next. 
" Yours very truly, 

"Nov.lO, ISOl. WaSHINUTON IliVlNO." 

xvi 



" Th Henry R. Schoolcraft. Esq. 

"SUNNYSIDK, Nov. 10, 1S51. 

" Deak Sir — In your Personal Jlenn/irs, re- 
cently publisliefl, you give a c-ouversation with 
the late Albert (laliatin, Es<|., in the course of 
which he made to you the following statement: 

"'Several years ago Joiiii Jacob Astor put 
into my hands the journal of his traders on tlie 
Columbia, desiring me to use it. I put it into 
the hands of Malte-Brun, at Paris, who enijiloyed 
the geograpiiical facts in his work, but jjaid but 
little respect to Mr. Astor, whom he regarded 
merely as a merchant seeking his own profit, and 
not a discoverer, lie had not even sent a man 
to observe the facts in the natural history. 
Astor did not like it. lie was restive several 
years, and then gave Washington Irving $5000 
to take up the MSS. This is the ]Ii>tory of 
Astoria.^ 

"Now, sir, I beg to int'orm you that this is 
not the History of Astoria. Mr. Gallatin was 
misinformed as to the jiart he has iissigned mo 
in it. The work was undertaken by me through 
a real relish of the subject. li.i the course of 
visits in early life to Canada, I had seen much 
of the magnates of the Northwest Company^ and 
of the hardy trappers and fur-traders in their 
employ, and had been excited by their stories of 
adventurous expeditions into the ' Indian coun- 
try.' I was sure, therefore, that a narrative, 
treating of them and their doings, could not fail 
to be full of stirring interest, and to lay open 
regions and races of our country as yet but little 
known. I never asked nor received of Mr. Astor 
a farthing on account of the work. He paid my 
nepiiew, who was then absent practising law in 
Illinois, for coming on, examining, and collating 
maimscript journals, accounts, and other docu- 
ments, and prejiaring what lawyers would call a 
brief, for ine. Mr. Fitzgreene Hulleck, who. was 
with Mr. Astor at the time, determined what the 
compensation of my nephew ought to be. When 
the brief was finished, I paid my nephew an ad- 
ditional consideration on my own account, and 
out of my own purse. It was the compensation 
paid by Mr. Astor to my nephew which Mr. Gal- 
latin may have heard of, and supposed it was 
paid to myself; but even in that case, the amount, 
as reported to him, was greatly exaggerated. 

" Mr. Astor signified a wish to have the work 
brought out in a superior style, supposing that it 
was to be done at his expense. I replied that it 
must be i)roduced in the style of my other works, 
and at my ex[)enso and risk ; and that whatever 
profit I was to derive from it must be from its 
sale and my bargain with the publishers. This 
is the true History of Astoria, as far as I was 
concerned in it. 

" huriiig my long intimacy wiili ^Ir. Astor, 



Compliment fkom Daniel Webster. 



commeiiciiii; wlien I was a Voung man, and end- 
ini^MJiily with his deatli, I never cume under a 
IK'Cuniary obligation to him of any kind. At a 
ti)ne of public pressure, when, having invested a 
part of my very moderate means in wild lands, 
, I was straitened and obliged to seek aocommo- 
dations from moneyed institutions, he repeatedly 
urged me to accept loans from liim, but I always 
declined. He was too proverbially rich a man 
for me to permit the shadow of a pecuniary favor 
to rest on our intercourse. 

"The only moneyed transaction between us was 
my purchase of a share in a town he was found- 
ing at Green Bay; for that I paid cash, though 
he wished the amount to stand on mortgage. 
The land fell in value; and some years after- 
wards, when I was in Spain, Mr. Astor, of his 
own free-will, took back the share from ray 
agent, and repaid tlie original ])urchase-money. 
This, I repeat, was the only moneyed transaction 
that ever took place between us ; and by this I 
lost four or five years' interest of my investment. 
"My intimacy with Mr. A. was perfectly in- 
dependent and disinterested. It was sought ori- 
ginally on his part, and grew up, on mine, out 
ot the friendship he spontaneously manifested 
for me, and the confidence he seemed to repose 
in me. It was drawn closer when, in the prose- 
cution of my literary task, I became acquainted, 
from liis papers and Ids confidential conversa- 
tions, with the scope and power of his mind, 
and the grandeur of his enterprises. His noble 
project of the Astor Libijaky, conceived about 
the same time, and which I was solicitous he 
should carry into execution during his lifetime, 
was a still stronger link of intimacy between us! 
" He was altogether one of the most remark- 
able men I have ever known: of penetrating 
sagacity, massive intellect, and possessing ele- 
ments of greatness of which the busy world 
around him was little aware ; who, like Malte- 
Brun, regarded him ' merely as a merchant seek- 
ing his own profit.' 

" Very respectfully, your friend and servant, ' 
" "Washington Ikving." 



Though made up from the most unpromising 
material of a commercial correspondence fre- 
quently carried on under great disadvantages 
with gaps and deficiences which had to be siip! 
phed from the scanty stock of published travels 
'" t'le West, the skill of the writer overcame all 
difficulties. His own conception of the artistical 
requirements of the subject, happily fulfilled by 
his adroit pen, is expressed in the concluding 
paragraph of the Introduction:— " The work I 
here present to the public is necessarily of a 
rambling and somewhat disjointed nature, com- 
prising various expe<]irions and adventures bv 
3 ■' 



land and sea. The facts, however, will prove 
to be linked and banded together by one great 
scheme, devised and conducted by a master- 
spirit; one set of characters, also, continues 
throughout, appearing occasionally, though some- 
times at long intervals, and the whole enterprise 
winds up by a regular catastrophe ; so that the 
work, without any labored attempt at artificial 
construction, actuallv possesses much of that 
variety so much sought after in works of fiction, 
and considered so important to the interest of 
every history." 

Another undertaking of a similar character 
was the_ Adventtires of Captain BonnevilU, 
U.S.A., in the Eochtj Mountains and the Far 
West, prepared from the ]\rSS. of that traveller 
but made an original work by the observation 
and style of the writer. 

Commencing with 1839, for the two following 
years, Mr. Irving contributed a series of papers 
monthly to the Kn ickerbocler Maqazine. Among 
these tales and sketches are two narratives of 
some length. The Early Experiences of Ralph 
Ringwood, and Mountjoy, or some Passages out 
oj the Life of a Castle Builder. A number of 
these papers, with some others from the Englisli 
Annuals and other sources, were collected in 
1855 in a volume, with tlie title of Wolfert's 
Roost. 

In February, 1842, Mr. Irving was ajjpointed 
Minister to Spain, an ofiice which he occupied 
for the next four years. The nomination was 
entirely unsought for, and was a compliment 
paid him by Daniel Webster, who announced it 
to him in a dispatch bearing his honorarv title. 
It was the first notice he received of it. On his 
return to America he took up his i)ermaneiit 
residence at his cottage, "Sunnvside," near Tar- 
rytown, on the banks of the iliulson, the very 
spot which he had described vears before in the 
"Legend of Sleepy Hollow," lis the castle of the 
Herr van Tassel, and of the neighborhood of 
which he had said :— " If ever I should wish for 
a retreat, whither I might steal from the world 
and its distractions, and dream quietly awav the 
remainder of a troubled life, I know of^ione 
more promising than this little valley." At this 
retreat, looking out upon the river which he 
loved so well, he continued to live, in the midst 
of a family circle composed of his brother and 
his nieces, hospitably entertaining his friends, 
occasionally visiting difterent jxHlions of the 
country, and employing his pen in the composi- 
tion of his Life of Wa.shiugtoti, the last volume 
of which passed through tlie press the present 
year. The preparation of this great work, tlie 
publication of Oliver Gohhmith] a Biography, 
an enlargement of a life which he had jji-efixed 
to an edition in Paris of that author's works, 

xvii 



The Life of Washington. 



adapting the researches of Prior and Forster, 
and a revised edition of liis own writings pub- 
lislied by Putnam, of which several of the vol- 
nines have been issued in a more costly form, 
enriched by tlie vigorous and refined designs of 
Darley, were the literary em[)loyments of his 
closing years. His retirement at Suiinyside was 
all tliat liis youthful fancy painted, and more 
than experience of the world could have prom- 
ised. His age was not exempt from infirmities ; 
but it was spared many of the sufferings common 
to mortality. And wiien lie came to die, his soul 
passed to iieaven the nearest way. His death, 
on tlie niglit of November 28, 1859, when he had 
Just retired from his cheerful family circle, was 
instantaneous. 

We now return to the concluding literary la- 
bor of the life we have thus traced to its close. 

Tlie preface to the first volume of the Wash- 
ington bears date 1855. Two volumes were 
published in that year; a third in the following; 
a fourth in 1857; the fifth, and concluding por- 
tion, in 1859. It was the completion of a work 
to which, in his own words prefixed to the last 
volume, '•'• the author had long looked forward as 
the crowning effort of his literary career." Con- 
tinuing this retrospect, Mr. Irving relates that 
" the idea of writing a life of Washington entered 
at an early day into his mind. It was especially 
l)ressed upon his attention nearly thirty years 
ago, while he was in Europe, by a proposition of 
tiie late Mr. Archibald Constable, the eminent 
])ubli<lier of Edinburgh, and lie resolved to uu- 
(k-rtake it as soon as he should return to the 
United States, and be within roach of the neces- 
sary documents." The purpose was never lost 
.sight of, though the work was postponed. If 
there was any expiation due the delay, the author 
paid the penalty in the increasing difficulty of 
the theme. Tliirty years ago less would have 
been demanded by the public in the performance 
of such a work. A thoroughly scientific school 
of historians had sprung up in the interval. The 
collection of facts by the historical societies and 
other agencies imposed new exactions in the 
weighing of evidence. Each addition to the vast 
Washington library brought additional care and 
responsibility. Kesearches of this nature may, 
indeed, be beiu'lited by the judgment of age; but 
the lalior wouhl seem to reijuire the strength and 
enthusiasm of youth. 

The writer, no doubt, found the undertaking a 
very different one from that which presented it- 
self to liis mind,' on his first conception of the 
idea in the presence of Mr. Constable. There 
were sterner requisitions, as we have said, to be 
met; and there was also a spectre of his own 
raising to be encountered, the shadow of his 
fame. But, whatever the struggle, it was man- 

xviii 



fully borne by the autlior, who sacrificed well- 
earned ease and leisure, with no other stimulus 
than the sense of duty, and with which we may 
associate the impulse of genius, performing a 
great part, if not the whole, of his allotted work 
after he had attained the age of threescore and 
ten. There are few more cheering instances of 
literary activity in the whole history of author- 
ship. We have frequently thought, as our eye 
rested on the narrative, that the author needed 
all the encouragement to be derived from the 
conscientiousness and sense of duty of his great 
subject. There stood above the page the awful 
shade of Washington, with warning finger point- 
ing the way his historian should follow. The 
monition was not unheeded. The history is 
such a one as Washington himself, were he 
privileged or condemned to revisit the scene of 
his earthly cares and anxieties, the country 
which he loved, the people for whom he gravely 
toiled, would, we think, calmly approve of. 

The qualities of Washington in the book are 
its simple, straightforward manner; its dignity 
and reserve, associated with care and candor, its 
paramount truthfulness. It is scarcely possible 
that a work of the kind could be written with 
greater absence of display or personal pretension 
on the part of the writer. The labor of rejection 
must have been great, wliere the material was 
overwhelming. The forbearance and self-denial, 
the avoidance of the sin of surplusage, can be 
fully estimated only by one who has made the 
prevalent characteristics and vices of the litera- 
ture of the day a study. There are eloquent, 
profound, learned works in abundance; but a 
well-written book is a great rarity. We are not 
aware that Mr. Irving goes out of his way to 
make a point, indulge in an unnecessary digres- 
sion, or yield, in a single instance, to the temp- 
tation to description, which last must, at times, 
have sorely beset his jien. He never stops in his 
steady movement to attitudinize, to strike a po- 
sition, arouse the attention of liis reader with 
"Here we are!" like the mountebank in the 
ring, or violate in any manner the sober pace of 
history. Great men come and depart noiselessly 
on the plain republican stage, trumpeted by no 
rhetorical blare of adjectives; their acts only be- 
tray their i)resencc. There are no set attempts, 
no efforts for effect. A half reflection inwrought 
with the progress of the sentence, a single epi- 
thet does all— and the wliole is any thing but a 
barren recital. It is the charm of the writings 
of Washington himself, where we are impressed 
by the truthfulness and i)leased by a certain 
native gracefulness — a plain thing like the 
cloAvn's mistress, but his own. Little, winning 
idiomatic touches frequently appear in the com- 
position ; but it lias also the higher merit of 



COPTEIGIITS. FkIENDSIIIP WITH AeTISTS. 



tlraniatic unity and steady progress. Wasliing- 
ton is the central peryoiiage, never far distant, 
always inspiring and directing the scene: he 
appears firmly planted amidst tlie historical ele- 
ments of his people and conntry. 

Mr. Irving always received handsome sums for 
liis copyrights. ]n 1850 it began to be don])ted 
in England whether the coi)vright of a bonk by 
an American or alien could be lield bv a British 
publisher, and Irving's works were b()ldly taken 
from Murray-, and issued in cheap editions by 
Bohn & Routledge. The legal question was car- 
ried into the Court of Chancerv, and the i)lea 
was at least meditated bv Mr. Murray, that Mr. 
Irving was not an alien, his tatlier being a native 
of the Orkneys, and his mother of Falmouth. 

The absurdity of this pi-etence to citizenship 

with which, of course, Mr. Irving liad nothing 
todo— in behalf of an American who liad held 
military rank in a war with Great Britain, was 
at once apparent. What stood in the way, it 
was asked, if he were a British subject, of taking 
him from AVestminster Hall, as a rebel, to a 
court-n:artial, and ordering him to be shot ! 

A more pertinent plea was Mr. ]\[urray's long 
previous undisputed enjoyment of the copyrights, 
and a statement of the 'sums he had paid for 
them. As given in the London Athenmum of 
Aug. 24, 1850, they were as follows: 

Sketch Book £'4G7 10s. 

Bracebridge Hall 1 ,050 ' 

Tales of a Traveller i ^575 

Life of Columbus .3 150 

Companions of Columbus 525 

Cou(piest of Granada 2,100 

Tonr on the Prairies '400 

Abbotsford and Newstead 400 

Legends of Spain 100 

footing up the respectable sum of . .9,767 10 

Mr. Bentley also published a statement of the 
sums paid by him to Irving, in conjunction with 
Ins partner, Colburn. They were, for the copy- 
right of the AUmmira, £1,050 ; for Astoria, 
£500 ; for Captain Bonnexille''s Adventures 
£900. ' 

_ Nor were his copyrights of late less remunera- 
tive in America. In a recent statement it is 
said, that within the last ten years— the period of 
the revised edition of his works— there have 
been sold twenty-two thousand sets of fifteen 
volumes each, exclusive of the Life of Washing- 
ton, and The Sketch Booh ; while of the latter 
thirty -five thousand copies have been distributed, 
and of tlie Washington forty-two thousand sets 
ot five volumes each— a total of five hundred 
and seventy -five thousand vohimes disposed of 
by Mr. George P. Putnam, the i)ublishel- of the 
works since 1849. These various editions, it is 



said, have paid to the author seventy-five thou- 
sand dollars. They owe much to the good taste 
of the publisher, especially in the illustrated 
series. 

Mr. Allibone, Avho, in his "Critical Diction- 
aiy," has infused a loving spirit into liis compre- 
hensive bibliographical details of tlie writings of 
Irving, pays a just tribute to his publisher, Mr. 
Putnam, — "a gentleman who, by his extensive 
circulation of sound literature for many years 
both in Europe and America, has honestly earned 
the title of a benefactor to the public mind." A 
letter from Mr. Irving to Mr. Putnam, expresses 
a still more intimate and cordial sentiment. "I 
take pleasure," lie writes, "in expressing the 
great satisfaction I have derived throughout all 
our intercourse, from your amiable, obliging, and 
lionorable conduct. Indeed, I never had dealings 
with any man, whether in the way of business or 
friendship, more perfectly free from any alloy." 
Mr. Irving was througho-ut life fortunate in his 
friendships with artists, who Avere attracted by 
the man, uo less tliaii his picturescjue books, for 
subjects for their pencil. His friend, the Acade- 
inician Leslie, who had much in common with 
his genius, designed for Murray a series of ten 
plates to illustrate The Sketch Book, and luiick- 
eriocke)''s History of Neio York, which were en- 
graved by the best artists of the day. He also 
introduced a portrait of his friend in liis Roger 
de Coverly i)icture. Allston, likewise, made^'il- 
lustrations for the Knickerhockcr. Ileatli, the 
engraver, drew a humorous design of the inarch 
of the great Amsterdam army to the attack of 
Fort Casimir, from the original of Avhich, pre- 
served at Sunnyside, an engraving was publish- 
ed by Mr. Putnam. He also engraved a choice 
series of Illustrations of the Sketch Book, from 
designs by Westall. George Cruikshank also 
made several capital i)ictures for an edition of 
Knickerlocker,]n\\}\hh(n\ in the "Family Libra- 
ry," and also quite a number of very felicitous de- 
signs, chiefly from Salmagundi, and the Knick- 
erlocker, which appeared in an elegant little vol- 
ume, by Tegg, of London, entitled 77i<3 Beauties 
of Washington Lrving. Of the American de- 
signs, liy Mr. Darley, much might be said, par- 
ticularly of the two series of " Sleepy Hollow," 
and " Kip Van Winkle," issued by the American 
Art Union. They seize with a firm grasj), and 
an individuality of their own, the stronger and 
deeper elements of Mr. Irving's pathos and 
humor. They are full of grace and feeling, and 
are something more than interpreters of the 
autlior,— they are revelations of the artist's own 
mind. 

Washington Irving was so lucky in his choice 
of subjects, and treated them so happily, that his 
name and fame are associated with some of the 

xix 



At the Alhambra. — Love of the Hudson. 



most enduring objects of interest about the 
■world. At Stratford-upon-Avon, the traveller, 
sitting down at the cheerful tireside of mine host 
of the " Red Lion," may, if he will, wield " the 
sceptre of Geoffrey Crayon ;" Avhen the traditional 
poker with which that ])leasant tourist stirred 
the fire, bearing that identical inscription, is put 
into his hands, with a well-thumbed copy of the 
Sketch-Booh, in which it is all written down, as 
voucher. The incident happened to ourself, and 
we presume the custt)m will be i)erpetuated to a 
late posterity, with the memories of the "lied 
Lion Lni" — for inns in England have a long life. 
Ne.\t to the birthplace of Shakspeare, the fancy 
of the world nestles in the quaint galleries, pil- 
lared courts, and carved recesses of the Alham- 
bra — the deserted Iiome of a fallen race, dear to 
the imagination in a land of poetry. Washing- 
ton Irving is firmly installed in the traditions of 
the place, and will doubtless, in time, become a 
myth, with King Chico and the rest. A traveller 
■who recently visited the Alhambra was immedi- 
ately taken possession of, upon his arrival at 
(Tranada, by a yontli of the town, who ])roduced 
his plenipotentiary powers over English-speak- 
ing strangers in the following card: 



JOSE JIMEMZ, 

(SON OF MATEO JIMENEZ, 

GUIDE TO WASHINGTON IKVING,) 
A NATIVE 

OK THE ALHAMBRA, 

xIespectfully offers his services, toac- 
comj)any Stranr/ers, Travellers and vi- 
sitors, to the Palace of the Alhambra 
and the environs of the above named 
Capital ; fur which his intimate acqiiain- 
lance with the antiquities and beauties 
which distiiir/uish GRANADA, eminen- 
tly rptuUfy him. 

The Irving traditions were rife in liis mind, 
lie pointed out Cicollrey Crayon^s apartments, 

XX 



and narrated how he was accustomed to pass liis 
evenings Avith Mateo, Tia Antonio, and Dolores, 
exciting their ])owers of story-telling, listening 
to their recitals, and reviving their flagging 
memory or invention by a good supper when 
the night wore on. It was jdeasant to hear how 
good Geoffrey had given a marriage portion to 
that "little, plump, black-eyed xVndalusian dam- 
sel Dolores." 

Our traveller visited Mateo, of course, and 
found him a cpiiet, slow, soft-spoken, good-look- 
ing old man, such as. his beneficent guest would 
be inclined to cotton to. He saw, in fact, Wash- 
ington Irving firmly rooted in the pockets and 
affections of the tribe, a sort of family estate or 
heirloom handed down from father to son. 

If these are slight, though agreeable incidents 
to travellers, home-keepers are not forgetful of 
these haunts of the iniagination. Tliey, too, re- 
member what they owe to Irving; and they have 
other claims upon their sympathy in the biog- 
raphies of Goldsmith, of Columbus, and Washing- 
ton. It is something to be associated with these 
names, and leave behind all baser matter. 

We might linger, too, upon the nationality of 
Irving's descriptions of American nature; of the 
fortunate turn his mind took to the great western 
regions of the American continent before they 
were invaded by the advancing pioneers of civil- 
ization : we might say much of the fancy and 
humor Avith which he has invested his native 
island and city : and no reader of his writings 
can forget his love of the noble river Avhich 
flowed by his doorway, Avhich had tempted his 
youthful imagination with its magic Avonders^- 
which had been fondly remembered by him in 
distant lands as he traced it in description — 
Avhich Avas tlie solace of his age, and gloAved, 
deeply dyed in the rays of the setting sun at his 
burial. "I thank God," he Avrote in his later 
years, " that I Avas born on the banks of the 
Hudson. 1 fancy I can trace much of Avhat is 
good and pleasant in my own heterogeneous 
compound to my early companionship Avith this 
glorious river. In the Avarmth of youtliful en- 
thusiasm, I used to clothe it Avith moral attri- 
butes, atid, as it were, give it a soul. I delighted 
in its frank, bold, honest character ; its noble 
sincerity, and perfect truth. Here Avas no .spe- 
cious, smiling surface, covering the shifting sand- 
bar and perfidious rock, but a stream deep as it 
Avas broad, and bearing with lionorable faith the 
bark that trusted to its Avaves. I gloried in its 
simple, quiet, majestic, e[)ic flow, ever straight 
forward, or, if forced aside for once by opposing 
mountains, struggling bravely through them, and 
resuming its onward march. Behold, thought 
I, an emblem of a good man's course tbrough 
life, evur simple, o[>en, and direct; or if, ovlw- 



Genius of Irving. — Habits of Composition. 



powered by adverse circumstances, lie deviate 
into error, it is but inoiiientary — he soon resumes 
bis onward and lionorable career, and continues 
it to the end of his pilgrimage." 

-The finest description, perhaps, of the Ameri- 
can climate ever written is from the pen of Ir- 
ving. It occurs in an out-of-the-way slcetch of 
the Cat-skills in the Booh of the Picturesque^ 
published a few years ago. " Here let me say a 
word in favor of those vicissitudes which are too 
often made the subject of exclusive repining. If 
they annoy us occasionally by changes from hot 
to cold, from wet to dry, they give us one of the 
most beautiful climates in the world. They give 
us the brilliant sunshine of the south of Europe 
with the fresh verdure of the north. They tioat 
our summer sky with clouds of gorgeous tints or 
fleecy* whiteness, and send down cooling showers 
to refresh the panting earth and keep it green. 
Our seasons are all poetical ; the plienomena of 
our heavens are full of sublimity and beauty. 
Winter with us has none of its proverbial gloom. 
It may have its howling winds, and thrilling 
frosts, and whirling snow-storms ; but it has 
also its long intervals of cloudless sunshine, when 
the snow-clad earth gives redoubled brightness 
to the day ; Avhen at night the stars beam with 
intensest lustre, or the moon floods the whole 
landscape with her most limpid radiance — and 
then the joyous outbreak of our spring, bursting 
at once into leaf and blossom, redundant with 
vegetation, and vociferous with life! — and the 
splendors of our summer ; its morning voluptu- 
ousness and evening glory; its airy palaces of 
sun-gilt clouds piled up in a deep azure sky; and 
its gusts of tempest of almost tropical grandeur, 
when the forked lightning and the bellowing 
thunder volley from the battlements of heaven 
and shake the sultry atmosphere — and the sub- 
hme melancholy of our autumn, magnificent in 
its decay, withering down the pomp and pride 
of a woodland country, yet reflecting back from 
its yellow forests tlie golden serenity of the sky 
— surely Ave may say that in our climate 'the 
heavens declare the glory of God, and the firma- 
ment showeth forth his handywork : day unto 
day utteretli speech ; and night unto night show- 
eth knowledge.' " 

In estimating the genius of Irving, we can 
hardly attach too high a value to the refined 
(pialities and genial humor which have made his 
writings favorites wherever the English language 
is read. The charm is in the proportion, the 
keeping, tlie happy vein which inspires happi- 
ness in return. It is the felicity of but few au- 
thors, out of the vast stock of English literature, 
to delight equally yuuug and old. The tales of 
Irving are the favorite authors of childhood, and 
their good humor and amenity can pleay where 



most literature is weariness, in the sick-room of 
the convalescent. Every influence which breathes 
from these writings is gt)od and generous. Their 
sentiment is always just and manly, without cant 
or aflectation ; their humor is always within the 
bounds of propriety. They have a fresh inspira- 
tion of American nature, which is not the less 
nature for the art Avith which it is adorned. 
Tlie color of personality attaches us througliout 
to the author, whose humor of character is 
always to be felt. This happy art of presenting 
rude and confused objects in an orderly pleasur- 
able aspect, everywhere to be met with in the 
pages of Irving, is one of the most beneficent in 
literature. The philosopher Hume said a turn 
for humor was worth to him ten thousand a 
year, and it is this gift which the writings of 
Irving impart. To this quality is allied an active 
fancy and poetic imagination, many of the 
choicest passages of Irving being interpenetrated 
by this vivifying power. On one or two occa- 
sions only, we believe, — in some stanzas to the 
Passaic Eiver, some delicate lines descriptive of 
a painting by Gilbert Stuart Newton, and a 
theatrical address once pronounced by Cooper at 
the Park Theatre, — has he ever put pen to verse : 
but he is an essential poet in prose, in many ex- 
quisite passages of vivid description from West- 
minster Abbey and English rural scenery to the 
waste beauties of the great region beyond the 
Mississippi. 

In composition, Mr. Irving's style flowed 
easily, though in common with most writers of 
original genius he had his favoring moods and 
seasons. Some of his best works were struck off 
at a heat. He took pleasure in writing when he 
could have his own way, and nurse a subject in 
his mind. The many hours passed at his desk in 
the absorbing pursuit of tracing his small, neat 
manuscript pages, were among his happiest. 
His principles of composition were few and sim- 
ple. He recommended short and direct phrases 
in writing, with as few long words as possible, 
avoiding the use of conjunctions and expletives. 
On looking over his books we find that he is 
much less indebted to the Latin element of the 
language, for the flow of his composition, than 
we had supposed. He would, doubtless, have 
concurred with the advice of S3'dney Smith to a 
young author, to improve his style by striking 
out every other word. 

He attributed his ease in writing, we have 
heard it stated, to the early training which lie 
received at his iirst school, where this branch of 
education was much insisted upon. He would 
write out the compositions of many of his school- 
fellows, and adapc his style to that of the one 
whose task he had undertaken. This is the re- 
marli of one who knew him well. But whatever 

xxi 



Pp:rsonal Tbaitc 



direction may thus have been given to his 
])()\vors, Ave suspect that, as in the case of Oliver 
(iolilsiiiith, a hapj))' instinct was liis cliief guide, 
and that he found liis way to his place in English 
literature, with but little aid from schoolmasters 
or preceptors. Good British autlun-s were his 
jirofessors; Ins college was the library wdiere 
the learned doctors were the wits of Queen 
Anne, and such kindly instructors as Sterne, 
Johnson, and above all, Goldsmith ; but his uni- 
versity was the world. 

" He read much as a boy," remarks our nar- 
rator, " and always liad entertaining books in his 
desk i'ov a stealthy perusal, when the master's 
eve was turned. He was not a very deep classi- 
cal scholar, not having received a collegiate edu- 
cation, but his deficiencies in this respect were 
amply compensated by his thorough ease in the 
use of plain, terse English, in which he was ex- 
celled by none. In reading, his memory of facts 
was not good, but he would grasp the spirit of a 
narrative, and conjure up a coloring of his own, 
which indelibly impressed it upon his mind, and 
was used as occasion required."* 

We have said that the university of Irving was 
the world. He was never a very bookish man 
in the restricted sense; he was oftener to be 
found in good company than in the library, in 
the fields and streets than in the study ; yet he 
was not a man of action in crowds. His life 
was a happy compromise between literature and 
society. A meditative disposition threw him 
upon himself; he was not cramped by pedan- 
try, nor was his mind volatilized or lost in the 
dissijiations or business of the world. 

It was early remarked by one of the most 
subtle and powerful critics whom America lias 
produced, Mr. Dana, the author of that more 
deeply-graven " Sketch Book," The Idle Man, 
that " Irving's wit and humor do not appear to 
come of reading witty and humorous books ; but 
from the world acting upon a mind of that cast, 
and putting those powers in motion." t 

We have now concluded our brief sketch of 
the literary career of Washington Irving. It 
would I)e an injustice to his memory, and a re- 
l)roach to ourselves, not to say a word of those 
sterling moral qualities which were the secret 
springs nurturing, in the image of Jeremy Tay- 
lor, the " fair spreading tree" of his reputation in 
his books. He was intimately and essentially, in 
small things and in great, an honest, honorable 
man. His judgment was sound, and his course 
always straightforward ; so tliat he attained suc- 
cess Avitliont craft or chicanery, which were en- 
tirely foreign to his nature. A modest simplicity 

♦ MS. Notes by Mr. J. Carson Brevoort. 
t North American Uoview for 1S19. Article — "Tlie Sketch 
Book." 
.\.\ii 



guided him in every thing. A beneficent deity 
had given him neither ])overty nor riches, and 
had removed far from him vanity and lies. He 
had none of the frequent atiectations of litera- 
ture. He valued reputation, but he was never 
seen stumbling in tlie awkward pursuit of praise. 
It came to him through life, and in abundant 
measure in age, when it was most welcome, to 
cheer drooping spirits, and clothe with a warm 
mantle of charity and affection, the chill, declin- 
ing years. 

" Nothing amazed, him," writes Mr. Brevoort 
to us, " so much as to be lionized, or made the 
centre of a group of listeners. To bear him 
talk, and to draw him out, it was necessary to 
have but few present. He preferred the society 
of such as liad some refinement of taste; not 
humorous or witty, but with a disposition to 
take the pleasant side of any question ; neither 
boisterous nor satirical. He never said any thing 
for effect, nor with a view to its being repeated 
or recorded. His remarks would drop from him 
as naturally as possible, and he never monopo- 
lized the conversation, but followed, instead of 
leading it," 

His chief guides were his tastes and affections, 
with which his principles of duty and religion, 
his love of independence, and his patriotism, 
were inwrought. Let his pastor, and the villa- 
gers and children of his neighborhood, as on the 
day of his funeral, that memorable first of Ds- 
cember, when nature seemed to sympathize with 
his departure from earth, bear witness to his un- 
affected piety. 

THE FUNERAL OF WASHINGTON IRVING. 

BY W. FRANCIS WILLIAMS. 

Yesterday* the funeral of Washington Irving 
took place at Tarrytown, where for twenty-one 
years the great author had resided, and to almost 
every inhabitant of which he was a personal 
friend. Indeed, the unanimity with which the 
peojde of that vicinity fiocked to do hoftor to 
the memorj' of their late fellow-townsman, was 
the spontaneous exhihition of their personal re- 
gard rather than an ovation to the genius and 
talent of a world-renowned author. 

According to previous arrangement the stores 
at Tarrytown were closed yesterday, and many 
of them draped with black and white muslin. 
This gave a peculiar air of melancholy to the 
aspect of this quiet village, to which the slow 
tolling of the church-bells gave an additional 
inournfulness. The numerous visitors from New 
York, most of whom came by the eleven-o'clock 
train -from the city, reaching Tarrytown at about 

* Tbisskotcli iippearod in tlie N. Y. Evening Post, Dec. 2, 1850. 



Funeral Services. 



noon, were thus at once reminded of the solem- 
nity of the occasion and of the mournful charac- 
ter of their visit. 

It would be difficult to estimate the number of 
persons that visited the village, to attend the 
funeral of Mr. Irving. "We were, however, as- 
sured by an old inhabitant that on only one 
previous occasion had there been so large a 
concourse of people in Tarrytown. That occa- 
sion was the dedication of the monument erected 
to the memory of Paulding, Williams, and Van 
Wert, on the spot where those patriots captured 
Major Andre. Certainly on no previous occasion 
has the village contained such an array of men 
eminent in the various walks of literature and 
commerce. 

The principal road at Tarrytown, after leaving 
the depot, and passing by a number of the prin- 
cipal stores and the hotels, Avinds up a short 
steep hill, and continues running eastwardly for 
about a quarter of a mile, until it meets the main 
road running from New York northward, i)aral- 
lel with the Hudson river. The upi)er part of 
the village has a more rustic appearance than 
the portion beneath the hill, as the houses are 
detached, and stand in large gardens surrounded 
by rich foliage, which even yet has not entirely 
disappeared. 

At the crossing, where the road from the depot 
meets the main road, which, during its course 
through Tarrytown, is called "Broadway," an 
arch or canopy of black and white drapery dec- 
orated the street. To the sotith, about two 
miles from the junction, is Sunnyside, the cele- 
brated residence of Mr. Irving, the Wolfert's 
Koost of the old Dutch times. 

At this period of the year, Sunnyside generally 
presents a melancholy appearance, the trees be- 
ing almost entirely denuded of foliage, the dry 
leaves lying upon the walks and lawns, and the 
wind playing around the yet verdant evergreens 
and among the bare branches with the soft, sad 
music peculiar to the autumn breeze. The house 
itself, with its quaint gables, its old-fashioned 
ornaments and rambling wings, readily assumes 
a tinge of melancholy. But yesterday it appeared 
unusually lonely; the windows were closed, and 
dehcacy prevented others than those connected 
with the family or with the necessary funeral 
offices from intruding upon the house of woe, or 
trespassing upon the tastefully laid-out grounds. 

At about one o'clock the funeral procession 
left Sunnyside, wliere a private religious service 
had been held by Rev. Dr. Creighton, the rector 
of Christ Church, Tarrytown, and an intimate 
personal friend of the deceased. The coffin was 
placed in a handsome, hearse, the sides of which 
were glazed, so tliat the coffin was plainly visi- 
#. ble. The carriages containing the friends of the 



deceased followed. The turn])ike road com- 
mands noble views of the Hudson river, with 
which the memory of Irving will be forever 
associated, while the " broad expanse of the 
Tappaan Zee," dotted with sails, is spread out 
like a panorama before the traveller. The fol- 
lowing is the 

PROGRAMME OF THE PROCESSION. 

The CommiUee of Arrangements, consisting of 
Mr. Benson Ferris, Mr. William Chaltners, 

Mr. Seth Bird, Hon. Holmes Odell, 

General Henry Storms. 
THE olekoy: 
Eev. Wm. D. Creighton. D.D., Rev. J. S. Spencer, 

iu carriages, wearing their gowns. 
physicians: 
John C. Peters, M.D., H. Caruthers, M.D., 

in carriages. 

PALL BEAKKRS : 

Professor James Kenwick, Goiiverneur Kemble, 

Mr. James A. Hamilton, Mr. Henry Sheldon, 

Dr. James Q. Cogswell, Mr. N. B. Holmes. 

Gen. James Watson Webb, Mr. George D. Morgan, 

in carriages. 

THE HEARSE, 

drawn by t^^•o horses. 

MOURN K.r.s, 

relatives of the deceased, as follows: 

Ebenezer Irving, aged S6. brother of deceased ; 

Rev. Pierre P. Irving, Rev. Theudore Irving, Mr. Pierre M. 

Irving, Mr. Saunders Irving. Mr. Oscar Irving, Mr. 

Edgar Irving, nephews of deceased; 

Mr. Moses H. Grinned, nephew by marriage; 

Mr. Irving Grinned, Mr. Irving Van Wart, and otlier relatives 

in carriages. 

Private carriages of deceased. 

Trustees of the Astor Library. 

Representatives of the Common Council of New T«rk, 

who joined the procession, on foot. 

Teachers and Pupils of the Private Schools, two and two. 

Citizens and strangers, numbering some five hundred, on foot, 

four abreast. 

Over one hundred and fifty carriages and other vehicles, with 

friends, which covered over a mile of space. 

As the procession approached the public 
school, the children were seen arrayed in a line 
upon the roadside. As the hearse passed, the 
boys and teachers uncovered their heads, in re- 
spect to the memory of one who for years had 
taken an active interest in their studies. 

The church, where the funeral ceremonies 
took place, is only a few rods from the school- 
house, and stands on the west side of the road. 
It is an unpretending structure of red brick, in 
the perpendicular Gothic or Tudor style of 
architecture, furnished with a scpiare central 
tower, embowered in trees, draped with vines, 
and, like most country and village churches, 
provided with spacious sheds for the acconnno- 
d;i; inn of the horses and vehicles of attendants 
frcun a distance. The basement of the church is 
occupied for the Sunday-school, and the interior 
of tlie church itself is finished with the utmost 
simplicity. Three Gothic windows on either 
side affijrd ingress for air and light. Over the 
entrance is a gallery for the organ and choir, 
while the chancel, lighted by a handsome stained 
window, is in a recess at the opposite or east end 

xxiii 



At CHUKcn. 



of tlie building. On tlie north wall are a couple 
of diamond-shaped tablets t(^ the memory of 
eminent members of the congregation long since 
deceased. For a number of years, Rev. William 
I). Creighton has officiated as rector of Christ 
Church. Dr. Creighton is a man of wealth, 
residing in one of the most beautiful country 
seats on the Hudson, and perforins his parochial 
duties without receiving any salary. He was 
at one time, on the death of Dr. Wainwright, 
elected Provisional Bishop of tins diocese, but 
declined the itosition, before his consecration, 
and thus made room for the election of the 
liresent Provisional Bishop. Rev. James Selden 
Spencer is the assistant-minister of Christ 
Church, Tarrytown. 

At twelve o'clock the little church was crowd- 
ed to repletion, and quite a panic was occasioned 
by a report that the gallery was threatening to 
fall. This report originated in the fact that one 
of the wooden i)illars supporting the organ-loft 
Avas observed to move, Avhile a crackling sound 
was heard. A number of people crowded out 
of the cliurch in terror. It appears that the Hoor 
of the cliurch had sligiitly sunk under the un- 
usual weight, thus loosening the pillar. The gal- 
lery was, however, firmly supported by cross- 
beams, and there was no real danger. The panic 
was soon allaj'ed. 

At about half-past one, the clergy present en- 
tered the chancel, led by Bishop Potter, and in- 
cluding Rev. Dr.Vinton, of St. Paul's, New York ; 
Rev. Dr. Taylor, of Grace Chureh; Rev. Mr. 
Meade; Rev. Mr, Farmington, of Trinity; Rev. 
Dr. Morgan, of St. Thomas ; Rev. Dr. McVickar, 
Rev. Mr. Babbitt, and Rev. Mr. Moore. Among 
the clergymen in the body of the house was Rev. 
J. B. Wakeley, the distinguished Methodist cler- 
gyman of this city. 

Rev. Dr. Creighton and Rev. Mr. Spencer, the 
officiating clergymen, met the body at the door 
of tiie church, and proceeded up the south aisle, 
reading the oi)ening sentences of the Episcopal 
burial service : 

" I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord ; he that 
believeth in me, though he were dead, yet sliall lie live ; and 
whosoever livetli and beliovetli in me, shall never die. 

'• I know that my Ecdecmor liveth, and that he shall stand 
at the latter day upon the earth. And though after luy skin 
worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God ; 
whom I shall see for myself^ and mine eyes shall behold, and 
not another. 

" We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we 
can carry nothing out The Lord gave, and the Lord hath 
taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." 

Arrived at -the chancel, tlie coffin was depos- 
ited before the chancel-rail, while the choir sang 
to a Gregorian chant, tlie ajipointed anthem, 
"Lord, let me know my end." Dr. Creighton 
then read the lesson from the 15th cliapter of 
1 (yorinthians, and the choir sting the following 

xxiv 



verses of the 20lh hymn, to the chond known as 
"St. Ann's:" 

"Behold the innumerable host 
Of angels clothed in light; 
Behold the sjdrits of the.jnst, 
Whose faith is changed to sight. 

Behold the blest assembly there, 
Wliose names are writ in heaven ; 

Hear, too, the .Iiidse of all declare 
Their sins through Christ forgiven. 

Angels, and living saints, and dead, 

But one eommunioM make — 
All jiiin in Christ, their vital Head, 

And of llis love partake." 

This hymn is often sung at funerals, and was 
selected for the funeral of llie late Bishop Waiu- 
wright. 

Dr. Creighton then stated that those desiring 
to take a last look at the features of tlie deceased 
could do so by passing up tiie south aisle, crossing 
in front of the ciiancel, and leaving by the nortli 
aisle. This was a ])oor arrangement, as the head 
of the coffin fronting to the north, tlie face of the 
deceased was not visible to the beholders until 
•they were directly before it; and as the time 
allowed to each was necesstirily very short, few 
could take more than a i)assing glimpse. By 
approaching at tlie north tiisle from the foot of 
the coffin, a much more .satisfactory view could 
have been obtained. 

Nearly a tltousand persons wiio had been un- 
able to gain entrance to the church iivailed them- 
selves of tliis mournfid privilege, and jiassed in 
quick, though solemn procession, by tiie remains 
of Washington Irving. Among tlie distinguislicd 
men who took part in this token of respect, or 
were present at the services, were Couimodore 
Paulding, Hamilton Fish, John A. Dix, William 
B. Astor, Gnlian 0. Verplanck, George Bancroft, 
N. P.Willis, Donald G. Aritchell, Tiiomas Hicks, 
John Jay, Henry T. Tuckerman, G. P. Putnam, 
Evert A. Duyckinck, George L. Dnyckiiick, 
George Folsom, Frederick Saunders, President 
King of Columbia College, Judge Kent, Fred- 
erick S. Cozzens. Almost every inhabitant of 
Tarrytown was jiresent to offer tlieir last> tribute 
of respect to their late friend and fellow-towns- 
man. 

The features of Mr. Irving appeared verj' thin 
to those who hiid not seen him for some time. 
During the last year, however, Mr. Irving's fail- 
ing health had visibly told upon his attenuated 
frame, and he looked very ditferent from what 
ho did five years ago. Then he migiit htivo been 
seen every Sunday in his pew at tlie little village 
church, always ready at the close of the services 
to greet the numerous friends thtit always met 
him by the chureh-door. He appeared well and 
hearty — as unlike the conventional idea of a lit- 
erary iiuui as could be, tind more like a well-to-do 



The Gkave. 



merchant or a respectable alderman. Mr. Irving 
dressed, of course, respectably, but never ele- 
gantly; and he often had a peculiar shambling 
gait, that would attract the attention even of 
those who did not know him. In entering the 
church he usually was waylaid by a few friends, 
spoke a few words with them, and then passed 
into his pew near the chancel, recognizing by a 
kindly smile, as he walked up the aisle, his vari- 
ous acquaintances. At other times he would 
visit the Sunday-school, for many years under 
the superintendence of his intimate personal 
friend and his pall-bearer, Mr. Nathaniel B. 
Holmes, of Spring Hill Cottage, Tarrytown. He 
•always was very fond of and exceedingly popular 
among children, and therefore took a lively in- 
terest in the Sunday-school. He was for many 
years a warden of Christ Church, and on several 
occasions served as lay delegate to the Diocesan 
Convention. A firm, though not bigoted Epis- 
copalian, Mr. Irving loved the services of his 
Church, and often expressed his devoted admira- 
tion of her liturgj'. At the meeting held by the 
citizens of Tarrytown the night after Mr. Irving's 
de^th. Rev. Mr. Spencer spoke of Mr. Irving's 
love of the Church, his goodness of heart, and 
his susceptibility to emotional influences. He 
said that he had seen Mr. Irving's eyes well over 
with tears at the least circumstance that would 
touch his heart. He was passionately fond of 
music. On the occasion of his first interview 
with Mr. Irving, he was expressing his interest 
in that glorious hynm of the Ciiurch, the Gloria 
in KvceUis ; and repeating tlie words, "Glory to 
God in the highest, on earth peace, and good-will 
to men," he exclaimed, with his eyes moistened, 
" That is religion, Mr. Spencer; that is true re- 
ligion for you." 

Mr. Irving usually attended church accompa- 
nied by his nieces and other relatives. * * * 

Mr. Irving's body was inclosed in a rosewood 
coflin, which was embossed with heavy silver 
screws, and furnished on the sides with chased 
silver handles. On the toj) was a silver plate 
bearing tlie inscription : 

WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Born April 3, 1783 ; 

Died November 2S, 1S59. 

Wreaths of native and exotic flowers lay on the 
coffin-lid. The corpse was clothed in ordinary 
civilian costume. 

The route to tlie grave lay along a road offer- 
ing most beautiful glimjjses of land and water 
scenery, but now rendered peculiarly interesting 
by the fact that it passes througli scenes that the 
pen of Mr. Irving- has rendered classic. The 
hearse and carriages, accompanied and preceded 
by a large number of ])edostrians, started from 
4 



the church at about two o'chick, and passed up 
tiie main road, through and beyond tlie village. 
The piazzas of the houses were crowded with 
si)ectators, wlnle the rocks on the wayside also 
served as standing-points for strangers and 
citizens. "Wiiile the procession was on its way 
the bells of the various churches tolled respon- 
sively. 

Tiie procession passed through the village by 
the monument erected last year on the spot 
where Major Andre was captured, until a sudden 
turn and rapid descent in the road brouglit the 
spectator in full view of one of tlie most delicious 
bits of pastoral scenery in the vicinity of New 
York — the brook and cove of Sleepy llohow, 
with its pond reflecting the trees upon its hilly 
borders, while on its opposite shore stood the 
celebrated Van Tassel mansion, the same to 
which Ichabod Crane was invited on the night 
of his celebrated adventure with the headless 
horseman. The old mill still stands, forming a 
prominent feature in the picture, and doing to 
this day good and active service, A few rods 
further and the bridge which Iciiabod crossed in 
his furious flight, and which Irving in his tale 
has immortalized in tlie same way that Burns 
immortalized another bridge in his Tam O'Shan- 
ter, canie in sight. It was elegantly decorated 
with evergreens, and black and white drapery 
and rosettes. Beyond this, on the ojiposite 
bank, stands the old Dutch Church, which, ac- 
cording to an inscription on its front, was built 
in 1699, by Frederick Phillips and Catharine 
Van Cortlandt his wife. Tlie Tarrytown Ceme- 
tery, which bears also the title of the Mount 
Pleasant Cemetery, lies to tiie north of this 
Church, upon the slope of the hill. It is already 
thickly poi)ulated with tombstones, some of 
them dating as tar back as the year 1667. 

Near the summit of the slo])e, where a grove of 
oak and yew trees commences to crown tiie hill, 
is the burial-jilaee of the Irving family. It is a 
large square lot, bounded by a low fence and a 
thickly grown evergreen hedge. Near the centre 
is a row of five graves, while a few feet distant 
is another row of five more graves, all marking 
the resting-places of the deceased members of 
the Irving famil}-. Between tliese two rows, 
and connecting them into one continuous row, is 
the grave of Washington Irving, whicli, I'ke the 
others, will be marked by a ])lain whi'e marble 
slab. This latest grave is very near the centre of 
tlie Irving lot. 

Only a few carriages, containing the relatives 
of the deceased, approached the grave, the others 
being left in the road by tiie ohl church, while 
tlie occupants walked to the plac^of interment. 
Dr. Creighton officiated, and, according to the 
solemn form of the Episcoi)al service, consigned 

XXV 



Pkoceedings of the Board of Aldermen. 



the " earth to earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes." 
The scene at this iiiomeiit, apart from the insep- 
arable solemnity of such an occasion, was one 
of more than ordinary interest. 

The day was mild and balmy as at spring- 
time, while the sun, yet high above the horizon, 
was veiled rather than dimmed by a film of 
cloud, which softened the rays that would other- 
wise have fallen with painful brilliancy upon the 
eyes of the reverently uncovered crowd that was 
present. The relatives and personal friends of 
the deceiised were within the inclosure of the 
burial lot, while outside, and upon the various 
hillocks commanding a view of the scene, were 
many of the townspeople and strangers. Dr. 
Creighton, Bishop Potter, and the Rev. Pierre P. 
Irving stood at the head of the grave, and by 
them was the venerable brother of Washington 
Irving, Mr. Ebenezer Irving, now eighty-six 
years old, sujjported by his two daughters, the 
nieces whose care and atfection so grea.tly enli- 
vened the later years of Washington Irving's 
life. Other relations and friends made up the 
group. The scene spread out before this sad as- 
sembly, though all unheeded by them, was one 
of singular beauty. Down the green hill-slope, 
thickly dotted with grave-stones, groups of late 
comers were coming slowly towards the place of 
interment. At the foot of the slope was the old 
revolutionary church, its front draped in black, 
while the road before it was crowded with car- 
riages. Beyond tliis the smooth sheet of water 
that su]>plie!^ the ancient Van Tassel mill-dam 
was ])luinly discernible, while still farther were 
the village of Tarrytown and the Hudson river, 
with the Palisades forming a distant background. 
The delicate blue haze that pervaded the atmos- 
phere mingled with the rich tints of an afternoon 
sun, which, as it descended, resolved itself, an 
hour or two later, into one of those gorgeous 
autumn sunsets that add such a peculiar glory to 
American scenery. And it was in such a place 
as this, on such a day, and under such circum- 
stances that Washington Irviivg, the genial 
author, and the loved and clierished friend and 
citizen, was laid quietly down to take his last 
sleej), among the scenes he has himself so faith- 
fully described, by the side of his mother, and in 
the very spot he had but a week ago designated 
as the ])lace of his final reixise. 

Washington Irving, as the last of the great 
literary men of the earlier part of this century, 
and probably from his personal acquaintance 
with tlie great Scottish novelist, recalls to mind 
the genius and career of Walter Scott. In their 
last days, too, there was a singular similarity. 
Like Scott, Irving had his home among the 
scenes that he particularly loved, and which he 
had invested with the magic of liis genius, and 

XX vi 



like Scott, he was buried amid those scenes. It 
is difficult to tell whether the burial-place of 
Scott or of Irving is the more attractive. Be- 
neath a high majestic arch of Dryburgh Abl)ey, 
one of the few remains of that noble Gothic edi- 
fice that has escaped the ravages of time — so near 
the banks of an historic Scottish stream, that 
the ripple of her waters can be heard from his 
grave — within sight of the almost enchanted land, 

" Where fair Tweed flows round holy Melrose, 
And Eildon slopes down to the plain," 

surrounded by decaying monuments of the 
medisBval grandeur, of which he has so nobly 
sung, they built the sarcophagus of Walter 
Scott. On the shores of his loved Hudson, in* 
sight of the noble Palisades, before whose grand 
magnificence the mediajval monuments are but 
as toys, and under only the arch of oak and yew 
branches, twenty-seven years later his friend 
Washington Irving was laid to rest. They are 
now both but mere historic names. Yet Abbots- 
ford and Sunnyside will remain to attract the 
ti:aveller's attention, and Dryburgh Abbey will 
not be oftener visited than the quiet churchyard 
that looks upon Sleepy Hollow and the Tappaan 
Zee. 



PEOCEEDINGS OF THE NEW YORK BOARD OF 
ALDERMEN AND COUNCILMEN. 

BOARD OF ALDERMEN. 

The Board of Aldermen held a special meet- 
ing at 3 p. M., Nov. 30. 

The President, Alderman McSpedon, stated 
that the meeting had been called, in accordance 
with the suggestion of the Mayor, for the pur- 
pose of making a suitable expression of the sen- 
timents of sorrow to which the death of Wash- 
ington Irving gave rise. 

The following message from the Mayor was 
read : 

THE mayor's message. 
"Mayor's Office, New York, Kov. 80,1859. 
'•'•To the Honorable the Common Council: 

" Gentlemen : — It becomes my painful duty 
to announce to you the death of an eminent 
man and illustrious author. Washington Irving 
is no more. He died at his late residence, at 
Sunnyside, Westchester county, on the evening 
of the 29th inst., and already the wires of the 
electric telegraph have sped the news of this sad 
event to nearly every part of our country, by 
which it will, no doubt, be considered as a 
national calamity. 

" While we bow with resignation to the dis- 
pensation of our Heavenly Father, who has taken 
from our countrv and the world of literature one 



Resolutions 



of its greatest benefactors and gifted sons, we are 
cheered by the thouglit that his works will be a 
rich and unfailing treasure of instruction and 
delight for generations to come. The genial 
products of his pure and graceful pen will for- 
ever continue to afford a solace to the side and 
weary, and supply a fund of innocent gratifica- 
tion to all classes, as long as literary taste and 
culture find a place on earth; while his biogra- 
phies of Columbus and Washington will fire the 
youthful mind to emulate those examples of he- 
roic duty and heroic patriotism. 

"For over fiftj' years this pioneer of American 
literature has ably sustained in the field of letters 
the-national creditand honor; and I am confident 
that his native City will not be indift'erent in 
adding their tribute to his fame. I would ac- 
cordingly recommend that the Common Council 
pass such resolutions as may be appropriate to 
this sad occasion, expressing the sorrow of our 
citizens at his loss, as well as their admiration of 
him as a man, a writer, and an historian, and their 
sympathy with his bereaved family and friends. 
I would also recommend that you direct the 
alarm-bells, and recpiest the church-bells to be 
tolled to-morrow, during the time fixed for his 
funeral, and that flags on the public buildings be 
displayed at half-mast throughout the entire day. 
" Daniel F. Tiemann, Mayor." 

Aid. Adams moved that the message be trans- 
mitted to the Board of Councilmen. Carried. 

Alderman Peck said the death of "Washington 
Irving had cast a gloom over the whole commu- 
nit}'. He was a Knickerbocker — a man of rare 
talents, whose place could not easily be supplied. 
No one could pass an adequate eulogy upon him. 
Ilis name was known and honored throughout 
the world. When he had heard that Washing- 
ton Irving was no more, he had been deeply 
impressed with the littleness of worldly affairs. 
When a great man died, the world mourned his 
loss. Who could have departed whose loss 
would liave been more sincerely felt? He pre- 
sented the following resolutions: 

'•'• WJiereas^ His Honor the Mayor lias officially 
communicated to the Board the melancholy in- 
telligence of the decease of one of New York's 
most illustrious sons, the Hon. Wasliington Ir- 
ving, the sad event occurring at his late residence 
at Sunnyside, on the banks of the Hudson, in the 
adjoining county, on Monday evening last, at the 
advanced age of 76 years ; and 

" Whe7'eas^ In the decease of our illustrious and 
honored citizen, it is meet that the authorities of 
this, tlie City of liis birth, should in a becoming 
manner evince their sense of the loss sustained by 
the whole coutttry in being deprived of the com- 
panionship of one who has by his exemplary life 



and his teachings, through the medium of his nu- 
merous hterary publications, tended in a marked 
degree to elevate the mind, enligliten the under- 
standing, and influence the will of all those of 
our citizens wiio entertain feelings of love and 
veneration for tlie clierished laws and institutions 
of our beloved country, more especially in the 
great and inestimable legacy bequeathed to us in 
liis Life of Washington; and 

"• Whereas^ In the many and important national 
trusts conimitted to his charge as Secretary of 
Legation at the Court of St. James, and as Min- 
ister Plenipotentiary at the Court of Madrid, the 
energy and fidelity with which he devoted his 
rare talents and ability to the best interests of 
his country, entitle liim to the lasting gratitude 
of those for whom he labored; and the Common 
Council, as the representatives of the greatest 
commercial and most important City in the 
Union, feel called upon to pay their feeble tribute 
of respect to his memory as a public man ; and 

^"■Whereas, Possessing as he did in an eminent 
degree all those attributes which constitute the 
scholar, the patriot, and the statesman, his loss 
will be the more sorely felt, as liis death creates 
a void in the number of our public men which 
cannot be filled in our day and generation — the 
shining galaxy of noble names, of whom he was 
a bright particular star, having of late years been 
gradually lading from our national horizon, nev- 
er, we fear, to be replaced or renewed by stars 
of eqnal brilliancy; therefore, be it 

'•^Resolved, Tliat this Common Council deeply 
sympathize with the ftimily and relatives of our 
deceased friend in their aflfliction; and in consid- 
eration of our respect for liis memory, do recom- 
mend that his Honor the Mayor direct the bells 
in the several fire-alarm bell-towers to be tolled 
between the hours of one and two o'clock, on 
Thursday, Dec. 1, 1859, at which time the funeral 
will take place from his late residence; that the 
sextons of the several churches or places of 
Divine worship be requested to toll the bells of 
their sevei'al churches at the above-mentioned 
time; that tlie masters of vessels in the harbor, 
the proprietors of hotels and other public build- 
ings, be requested to display their flags at half- 
mast during the day, and that the flags on the 
City Hall and other public buildings and institu- 
tions of the City, be also displayed at half-mast 
during the day. And be it further 

'"'■Resolved^ That the Clerk of the Common 
Council be directed to cause a copy of the fore- 
going preamble and resolutions to be stiitably 
engrossed and transmitted to the family of the 
deceased." 

The resolutions were adopted unanimously, 
and transmitted to the Board of Councilmen. 

The Board then adjourned. 

xxvii 



AiHEN^rM Resolutions. 



The Board of Councilineii also held a special 
meeting, at which similar resolutions were 
passed, and remarks made by Messrs. Ottarsun, 
Lent, and others. Mr. Ottarsou recalled Mr. 
Irving's speech complimentary to the city at the 
dinner given to him in 1832. 



RESOLUTIONS OF THE ATHEN^DM.— 'J'HE 
REV, DR. OSGOOD'S REMARKS. 

At the annual meeting of the Athenaeum Club 
of this city, held November 30, at their rooms, 
No. 108 Fifth Avenue, the following resolutions 
were unanimously adopted : 

Resolved., That the members of the Athenteum 
of New York, share in the profound sorrow which 
is everywhere felt at the death of Washington 
Irving. 

Eesohed, That while contemplating this event, 
which dei)rives the world of letters of its most 
illustrious ornament, we dwell with especial 
l)ride and affection on the memory of one who, 
by a long life of constant devotion to American 
literature, has justly earned the name of its most 
honored patriarch and representative. 

liesohed. That the immortal legacy \vhicli he 
has left in his works entitles him to the endur- 
ing gratitude of the American people, and the 
Athenteum hereby offers its co-operation in em- 
bodying the sentiment of i)nl)lic appreciation in 
the form of some approjjriate memorial. 

Resolved^ That a copy of these resolutions, 
signed by the president and secretary of the as- 
sociation, be forwarded to the family of the 
deceased, and that they be published in the 
morning and evening papers of the city. 

Geougk Folsom, President. 

Fkank Moore, Secretary. 

The Rev. Dr. Osgood, in responding to these 
resolutions, remarked that he liad come late to 
the club, wholly unaware that any such resolu- 
tions were to be offered, and he was not i)re- 
pared to speak as tlie dignity of the occasion 
demanded. He thought, however, that any man 
might venture upon a few words of tribute to 
Washington Irving, and that simple and lionest 
gratitude ought to be motive and inspiration 
enough. He would therefore not slirink from 
acceding to the request of liis friends. 

It is best to, speak of the dead unaffectedly, 
just as we feel, or else not to speak of them at 
all ; and the reason why epitaphs are said to tell 
such lies, is not because the authors of them 

xxviii 



mean deliberately to lie, but because they allow 
themselves to take an unnatural position, and 
fall into an exaggerated, if not false, temj^er and 
style. Surely, now we may trust ourselves to 
speak sincerely of Irving, and say at the outset 
that, mournful as it is, we think that we shall 
never see his face nor touch his hand again. 
Yet, on the whole, thei-e is far more to cheer 
and exalt than to sadden and depress us, in his 
death. His life has been a continued triumph, 
and any man who knows what this world is, 
and how full of trials and disapi)ointments, must 
look upon this veteran of letters as favored 
alike in the honors of his life of seventy-six 
ye-iirs and in the tranquillity of his death. Death 
takes him from our sight only to give new jjower 
to his works, and sets its solemn seal upon his 
genius, not to shut up its gold in sepulchral vaults 
or musty parchments, but to stamp it with the 
immortal crown, and give it universal currency 
among men, with the coinage that bears the 
superscription of God. 

Washington Irving's death releases him from 
a round of labor most faithfully pursued, and 
his last work on Washington at once completes 
his literary life, and makes his baptismal name 
alike a name and a title, — his birth name and 
his honorary title. In fact, in his case, the day of 
his death answers fitly to his birth, and the 
honors that he won by his service till his de- 
cease, harmonized with the genius which was in- 
born. It is not always tliat a man's genius and 
character are alike honorable. If a man's birth 
should be celebrated as the date of his genius, 
and his death as the date of his completed char- 
acter, we may here, to-night, put both dates to- 
gether, and call Washington Irving blessed, alike 
in tlie gift of native genius and the graces of 
gentle humanity and unswerving fidelity. 

Dr. Osgood said that he would not presume to 
survey Irving's various books, or try to analyze 
his intellectual gifts. He would merely speak 
of his genial temper, — the charming good-na- 
ture that led him to the practical optimism that 
makes the best of every thing, and enabled him 
to betpieath, not only to his heirs at law, but to 
the wiiole world of readers, a " Sunnyside," in 
which they may bask in the light of God, among 
tlie fruits and tlowers of free and fair humanity, 
on tlie banks of a river whose How and whose 
music all time is swelling. 

With a word upon Irving's services to Ameri- 
can nationality, and the power of literature in 
giving unity to a people, far more enduring than 
comes from the schemes of political wire-pullers 
and panic-makers. Dr. Osgood commended the 
resolutions, and took his seat. 



Address of President King. 



PKOCEEDINGS OF THE NEW YORK HISTOR- 
ICAL SOCIETY. 

At tlie monthly meeting of the Society, held 
Dec. 6, 1859, after the usual transactions, the 
President, the Hon. Luther Bradish, made the 
following remarks : 

"Since our last meeting, death has again in- 
vaded the circle of our Society, and reinoved 
from among us one of our earliest, most distin- 
guished, and most cherished members. After a 
long, brilliant, and well-closed life, Washixgtox 
luYiNG has gone to his final rest ! Few among 
the current events of time have touched moi'e 
profoundly the lieart of the public, or moved 
more deeply Its finer sensibilities. It was natural 
that this should be so. For Washington Irving 
was not only admired for the brilliancy of his 
genius and its productions, but he was beloved 
for his genial spirit, the amenity of his cliarac- 
ter, and the beauty of his life. In his departure 
from among us he has left behind him, to remind 
us of the magnitude of our loss, not only the rich 
heritage of his literary works, but the benign 
iiitiuence and encouraging example of his own 
well-spent and successful life. In the universal 
grief at such a loss, the members of this Society 
deeply sympathize; but in the Intimate relations 
of the deceased with this Society as a loved and 
honored associate, we have an additional and 
peculiar motive for grief. 

"It is therefore fitting and proper that the So- 
ciety should, in a nuanner becoming tlie occasion 
and worthy of Itself, signalize its high apprecia- 
tion of the deceased, and its own peculiar and 
profound grief at his loss. To this end, I trust 
that suitable measures may be proposed and 
adopted on this occasion, and which I now 
invite." 

President King, of Columbia College, rose and 
said, that the duty had been assigned to him of 
laying before the Society some resolutions ex- 
pressive of the Society's appreciation of the loss 
it had sustained in the death of Washington 
Irving. They would require no preface, and he 
Avould therefore read them. 

Resolved^ That the New York Historical So- 
ciety has received with deep and solemn interest 
the intelligence of the death of our distinguished 
associate, Washington Irving, whose glowing pen 
has illustrated the annals, as the beauty of his 
life has advanced the character, of our country 
and our race. 

Hesolvecl^ That, Avhlle mourning, as all nuist 
mourn, the loss of such a nuxn, we acknowledge 
the Goodness tliat rouchsafed to him length of 
<l;iys to compTete his last great work ; and then, 
turning from further labors, to pass serenely. 



and without suffering, from mortal life to im- 
mortality. 

Resolved, That this Society will celebrate the 
next anniversary of the birth of Washington 
Irving by a Public Address on his Life, Charac- 
ter, and Genius; that William Cullen Bryant be 
respectfully requested to prepare and deliver the 
address ; and that the executive committee make 
the proper arrangements for tlie occasion. 

Resolved^ That a copy of the foregoing resolu- 
tions, duly authenticated, be transmitted by the 
President of tlie Society to the family of the de- 
ceased. 

ADDRESS OF CHARLES KING. 

The duty has been assigned to me, Mr. Presi- 
dent, of orterlng for the consideration of the New 
Y(jrk Historical Society certain resolutions ex- 
pressive of our feelings at the death of Wash- 
ington Irving, one of our earliest, oldest, and 
most distinguished members. There is no pref- 
ace needed for the ])erformance of such a duty, 
and I ask therefore at once to read the resolu- 
tions. 

It is only a few short months ago that we met 
here to express our regrets at tiie decease of 
another illustrious member of our Society, too 
early snatched from us — our great historian 
Prescott. It was an added pang to our grief 
then, that in the meridian of his powers, with 
his work yet unaccomplished, and while we 
might reasonably look for continued years of 
honorable labors, Prescott was suddenly struck 
down. Now our sorrow — not less deep and sin- 
cere — is yet soothed by the reflection that Irving 
was graciously permitted to fulfil his work : that 
his beautiful life was ju'olonged Into genial old 
age, with heart and afi'ections still fresh, with 
judgment matured, and witii faculties to com- 
plete the crowning glory of his literary labor — 
the biography of Washington. We cannot see 
so bright a life go out Avithout mourning; yet 
we are consoled as by the dying sunset of a glo- 
rious day. That whole life, with the exception 
of the period passed in Europe, was spent in this 
city and vicinity. Mr. Irving was eminently a 
New Yorker, and fond of being so regarded ; 
yet he was universal and catholic in his sympa- 
thies : and well was that largeness of sympathy 
repaid to him, — for where are not his friends and 
admirers? 

To those of us who knew lilm in early youth 
— we are few and far between now, who did 
thus know him — his personal character is so 
identified with his literary character, that we 
might well distrust our judgment of his works 
from attachment to his person : but that the 
united voice of Europe and America confirms 
the most favorable judgment. He has written 

xxix 



Mr. Bancroft's Address. 



Miucli, and on varied and widely differing sub- 
jects, but in all, well. In his great biographies, 
careful in iuvestigation, truthful in statement, 
impartial in deciding, and always aiming to be 
right, he wins the confidence of his readers by 
his honesty, quite as much as their admiration 
by his pure, polished, transparent style. In his 
various essays and fancy sketches, we find the 
same genial temper, quaint imaginings, delicate 
humor, and stainless purity, which characterized 
the man. Never, indeed, was author so com- 
pletely daguerreotyped in the sunlight of his 
own genius as Washington Irving. He stands 
revealed in all the lineaments of his moral nature 
by the briglitness of his own fiasliing pen. And 
as those who knew him best cannot, in all their 
intercourse, recall a word or act of his tliat 
could ofiend the most sensitive delicacy, so no 
cheek ever felt a blush of distress at any line or 
sentiment he ever wrote. 

Of such a life, Mr. President, and such liter- 
ary labors, it seems meet and fitting altogether 
tiiat his associates in this Society, should make 
lionorable record, as well in affectionate testimo- 
ny of their own high regard, as for the edifica- 
tion of those who shall come after us to profit 
by such an example. 

And it is most fortunate — sliall I err in saying 
Providential? — that the close of such a life 
shoiild be beautiful and serene as its course, that 
he should pass from life to death witliout a 
struggle, a murmur or a sigh; and that his obse- 
quies slionld constitute the most remarkable in- 
cident known in tiie record of any private man. 
Truly the heavens that smiled propitious on his 
life, smiled, too, propitious on his grave. On 
one of the loveliest days of our loveliest season, 
which our Longfellow tells us is called by the 
pious Acadian peasants, " the Summer of all 
Sai/its^''^ our friend was borne to liis rest, follow- 
by thousands from city and country, the long 
procession wending its way amid rustic dis[)lays 
of admiration, and regret — all business suspend- 
ed, all hearts intent upon tiie one common sor- 
row, and among scenes which his pen has im- 
mortalized. Slowly, slowly and sadly they 
went, as the great sun sank to its rest, " looking 
with eyes of love, tlirougli tiie golden" vapors 
around him, upon tliat grave which Avas just 
about to close upt)n all tliat was mortal of our 
friend. 

It is a " "Washington Irving day," was an ex- 
clamation from many lips — a day in its beaut}', 
calmness, and loveliness, akin to his life and la- 
bors ; and turning from that hill-side where he 
was laid to his rest, to gaze upon the enchanting 
panorama around, and to mark the demeanor of 
the thronging multitudes as they separated on 
their respective paths, it was impossible not 

XXX 



to feel, with all the joy of grief, that our dead 
had been fittingly and worthily honored. 

Mr. President, I add no more, and simply 
move the adoption of the resolutions. 

The Kev. Dr. Bethune, upon being called upon 
by Mr. Bradish, said that he arose at the in- 
stance of an authority which he would never 
willingly disobey, to second the resolutions. He 
wished it to be understood that he did not deem 
liimself a fit person to assume such a charge, as 
he had never been brought into close personal 
intimacy with Mr. Irving. He had indeed re- 
sided in his rural neighborhood ; but he had 
not called upon him, out of respect for his re- 
tirement and pursuits. Dr. Bethune sjjoke of 
Mr. Irving's choice of a residence; in the val- 
ley, not amid the mountains; by the fields and 
meadows of the broad Tappaan sea, rather than 
the Highlands ; in a congenial region, suited 
to his temperament. Aside from the intrin- 
sic beauties of Irving's writings, he considered 
their great excellence to be their moral worth. 
After enlarging somewhat upon this topic, he 
concluded as follows : " Look upon the Life of 
Washington, and you will see that Washington 
Irving was, if he chose to be, as strong as he was 
gentle. Let us honor his memory by following 
his example. If we cannot imitate the beauty of 
his power, — for it is not given to every one to 
be great, to instruct all, as master — let us, each 
in his sphere, show in his life that he has not 
read in vain the lessons of that beautiful teacher, 
who, though dead, yet speaketh." 

ADDRESS OF ME. GEOEGE BANCKOFT, 

Memory cherishes tlie lovely qualities and 
beautiful career of our friend who has just 
ceased to be mortal: but words are wanting to 
portray his genius and his virtues. No Ameri- 
can since Washington has taken with him to the 
grave the undivided affection of the American 
people like Irving. And it is right that it should 
be so. He came into the world just as a treaty 
with England gave our Republic a recogi"iized 
existence among tlie nations ; and he was lulled 
in his cradle by the pleasant songs of returning 
peace. The first great solemnity tliat he gazed 
upon in his childhood was the inauguration of 
our Constitution ; so that the early life of him 
wlio was called to take the foremost part in cre- 
ating an American literature, was bathed in the' 
purest dews of our country's morning. As he 
grew up, his genial humor was nursed by the 
traditions and inspirations of his own native 
State ; he opened his heart to all the pleasant in- 
fiuences that surrounded him ; he made himself 
one with Nature as she reveals herself in her 
glory along the Hudson ; and when he was scarce 



Meiiits as an Historian. 



six and twenty years old he had written Avhat 
the world -will not suffer to be forgotten. 

Thus far his literary activity had been the 
outgoing of the joyousness of youth ; his mind 
was to be ripened, his character to be matured, 
his rightful career to be made plain by the trials 
of afiliction. He had loved and been beloved ; 
and he watched, to use his own words, " beauty 
and innocence languish into the tomb." The 
being was departed whom he had loved as he 
never again was to love in this world, who had 
loved him as he was never again to be loved ; 
and the gladsome humor that marked his en- 
trance into life had become, not subdued, but 
tinged by a sweet-souled melancholy, and a large 
and more earnest sympathy with his kind. Now, 
when he stood midway in the path of human 
life, of a sudden his outward fortune was swept 
away and disappeared, and he was left in posses- 
sion of nothing but his own mind. Blessed ad- 
versity! that opened to him the treasures which 
lay heaped up within liis soul. Sorrow and 
misfortune only brought out in its brightness the 
])urity of his nature, and Avere but as clouds 
that reflect the sunshine in a thousand hues. 

In a foreign land, alone, imixn'erislied, be- 
reaved, he was so good and true, we might also 
say angels ministered to him. He looked with se- 
rene wisdom upon the angry waves that threaten- 
ed him, and they passed under him without harm. 

The career of letters now claimed him for its 
service. He had not been deeply read in books ; 
but his mind was richly stored with images of 
beauty and primal truths, and he knew nature 
by heart. The English language, which better 
than any other can express the sincerity of affec- 
tion, the delicacy of sentiment, the freshness of 
rural scenes, spread out its boundless wealth as 
his own ; and at that period of Avhat he himself 
calls "his troubled life," he conquered for him- 
self fame an(J good will wherever that language 
is spoken. 

It was at this period of his life that, during a 
summer at Paris, I formed with him that relation 
of friendly intimacy which grew in strength to 
the last. Time has in a measure effaced tlie rela- 
tive difference of our years, but then he was al- 
most twice as old as I. As we roamed together 
over the fields round Paris, manj' an earnest, and 
noble, and encouraging word fell from liim for 
my behalf ; and sometimes he would speak to me 
of his own occupations. How he proceeded with 
descriptions, I cannot say; but I found that 
where he gave expression to feeling, he would 
write continuously, pouring out as it were at one 
gush all he intended to give forth. One evening, 
after we had been many hours together, he took 
me to his room and read to me what he had writ- 
ten at one sitting, without pause, without one in- 



spiration, and almost without interlineation or 
erasure. 

I remember it to this day : it was his St. 
MarFs Fee, from the words " I am now alone in 
my chamber," to the end. He that studies such 
passages closely will find confessions of Irving's 
own inward experience and affections. 

As an historian, Irving stands in the front 
rank. His life of Columbus has all kinds of merit 
— research, critical judgment, interest in the nar- 
rative, picturesque description and golden style ; 
exquisite in the melody of its cadences and its 
choice of words. His Life of Washington, which 
is still dear to the American people, is a marvel. 
No one has so painted the Father of his Country 
to thehfe; modestly disclaiming great extent of 
original researcli, he has yet added much that was 
not known before. But what distinguisiies him 
is the grace and facility of his movement. He 
writes American history, as it were, by the aid of 
special endowments ; he takes with him a candor 
that never fails ; a clear, impartial judgment, and 
an unrivalled keenness of insight into character. 
He may err in minor details, but never in the 
general effect. No one has drawn so true, and 
touching, and vivid a picture of Washington in 
his retirement, as Irving, who published it while 
suffering from prostration of the nerves, ii depres- 
sion of spirits, and that attack of asthma which 
harassed him to the last. 

Nor let it be forgotten that Irving is a native 
of our own New York. Like Chaucer, and Mil- 
ton, and Pope, and Gray, his birthplace was in 
the heart of a city. Among the Greeks, when a 
victor returned from the Olympian games, the 
citizens of his own home esteemed his prizes their 
own, went out to welcome his return, and would 
even break down the walls to receive him in 
greater triumph. Our Irving has wrestled in the 
game of life and came off the conqueror ; he has 
gone to his long honie; on the mildest of winter 
days we have surrounded him with flowers and 
laid him among his kindred, and his spirit in its 
flight has been borne upward on the afiections of 
countless multitudes. Now, what shall we do 
here to mark for him our veneration and love? 
He gave to this city of merchants fame through- 
out the world of letters. Will not, then, the 
merchants of New York raise to his memory a 
statue of purest marble? It would be the pay- 
ment of a debt to his fame, a just tribute to his 
virtues, a lesson to the rising generations. Fa- 
thers might then take their sons to gaze on his 
lineaments, and say, " There is the man who du- 
ring more than fifty years employed his pen as 
none other could have done, and in all that time 
never wrote one word that was tainted by skep- 
ticism, nor one line that was not as chaste and 
pure as the violets of Spring." 

xxxi 



Early School-Days. 



CHAKACTERISTICS OF WASHINGTON IRVING. 
THE ADDKESS OF DR. JOHN W. FRAXCIS. 

In my attendance on this meeting of the His- 
torical Society, it was my purpose to remain a 
listener, rather than be a speaker. The deep 
interest which the notices of the life of the illus- 
trious deceased have awakened everywhere, and 
the grateful tributes now i)aid to tile memory of 
the great author and liis virtuous career, by the 
several gentlemen who have gi-atified this large 
assembly by their addresses this evening, have 
rendered the announcement of his deatli, if pos- 
sible, still more impressive and instructive, and 
to this institution a memorable event indeed. I 
most cordially agree with every sentiment that 
has been expressed with regard to the spotless 
integrity of his life, the purity and excellence of 
his writings, and the mighty influence they have 
had, and are destined to maintain in after time, 
in tiie republic of letters. The gentlemen who 
have so amply given us their opinion on the 
richness of his intellect, the exquisite finish and 
chasteness of his style, tlie fertility of his imagi- 
nation, his humor, his wit, his delicate satire, 
and e'en the very habits of the man, have ren- 
dered additional remarks of that import super- 
fluous on tliis occasion; and yet I cannot but 
believe, in jjart, that many of their inferences, 
however faithfully deduced, have been drawn 
more from a study of his printed works than 
from a close personal knowledge of the man 
himself. I am aware that individually he was 
Avidely known, and that his character was well 
understood ; and I am ready to acknowledge the 
obligations we are under for the benefit of that 
wisdom given us at this meeting which their 
personal knowledge of him in later years has 
enabled them to impart. 

But there is a period in the life of the great 
autlior in which I think I have some advantages, 
or information at least, over the orators of to- 
niglit; and that fact, and that alone, impels me 
to the statement of a few circumstances associa- 
ted with Washington Irving during a portion of 
his school-boy days. In casting my eyes around 
this assembly I see few ohler thftn myself, and 
none, I believe, acquainted with him at the period 
to which I allude in the same relationship with 
myself. I was a boy at the same school with 
young Irving, now some sixty-two years ago, in 
1707. The institution was a male seminary, sit- 
uated on John-street, next to the primary Meth- 
odist Meeting-house, and in the vicinitj' of the 
renowned John-street Theatre. There was some 
six years' difference in our ages, and Irving oc- 
cupied a place in the school among the older 
3'outh at tlie head, where the prominent master 
had his desk and exercised his ferule. The 
xxxii ' 



younger the scholar, the nearer the entrance or 
door seemed to be the disposition of the seat for 
him. In that daj' of dreary teaching in our 
academies, young Irving was associated with 
boys of about the same age with himself, and 
their studies blended in classes in the ordinary 
way so common in school-arrangements. About 
four years since, at an interview with Mr. Irving, 
the conversation turned to former times, arid I 
asked him if he had a fair recollection of his 
school-associates of those days. He replied lie 
believed they had all departed. I stated that I 
had in memory two survivors: one engaged in 
the lottery of political life, the other cultivating 
cabbages on his ample farm, with all the indus- 
try of an old Knickerbocker, though he was 
represented to be worth nigh half a million of 
dollars. Mr. Irving manifested a desire to make 
a visit to this legitimate descendant of the olden 
times, and we made an arrangement with that 
intent; but circumstances intervened, and the 
chances of life prevented it. 
. I remember well the elementary books scat- 
tered about the seminary, so characteristic of a 
common English school at that jjcriod : the 
Columbian Orator of Bingham, and Hamilton 
Moore's i/o/ii tor; the Schoolmaster'' s Assistant of 
Dilvvorth, and the Arithmetic of Pike, with here 
and there a copy of Dytch's English Dictionary. 
In those days, ballads, on jurinted slips, or folded 
in 8vo half-sheets, were widely sold in the streets, 
and many found their way into the scliool-house. 
Watty and Meg was of the number, sni>p()sed 
generally to be an ottspring of Burns, but after- 
wards known as an early production of the cl-I- 
ebrated Alexander Wilson, the great author of 
American Ornithology ; many of DibdiiTs fa- 
mous songs, and Mrs. Kowson's America, Com- 
merce, and Freedom, were also in the hands of 
many scholars. It may have been that the 
patriotism of the times in Adams' administration 
against the French, led to the distribution or 
toleration of this sort of literature among the 
boys, the better to dift'nse the patriotic sentiment 
of the day. Young Irving, 1 think, was more 
of a general reader than an exact student, so far 
as prescribed duties enjoined. I take it that 
even at that juvenile ])eriod he had already 
adopted his own peculiar method of obtaining 
knowledge. He ruminated within himself, while 
his often seeming listlessness was seizing upon 
ludicrous perplexities which fell under liis own 
notice. That quic'k foresightedness, that ii\it 
seizure of a novelty, a principle, or a fact, tluit- 
pronipt comprehension when too much labor 
was not demanded, rendered it comparatively 
an easy matter for him to master his Kule of 
Three; and as to grammar, we may infrr, from 
tlie ever-domiiKint beauty and gracefulness of 



The Old Sciiool-Books. 



his diction in all his writings, that he was ety- 
mological from tiie beginning. The leading 
teacher of the institution Avas ever insisting on 
the importance of rhetoric, and struggled hard 
to make every boy a Cicero. He assigned pieces 
for memory, to be rehearsed at the public exhi- 
bitions of his scholars, and snch was his ethno- 
logical science and his acquaintance with the 
doctrine of temperaments, that he committed to 
Irving the heroic lines — 

"My voice is still for war,'''' &c. — 
while I, nearly seven years younger, was given 
for rhetorical display — 

" Pity the sorrows of a poor old man," &e 

There was a curious conflict existing in the 
school between tlie principal and his assistant- 
instructor: the former a legitimate burgher of 
the city, the latter a New England pedagogue. 
So far as I can remember, something depended 
on the choice of the boy's parents in the selec- 
tion of his studies ; but if not expressed other- 
wise, the principal stuck earnestly to Dilworth, 
while the assistant, for his section of instruction, 
held to Noah Webster. The same system or rule 
Avas adopted with the school in unfolding the 
intricacies of arithmetic: Dilworth was all in 
all with the principal, while Nicholas Pike, with 
his amended federal currency, was imparted by 
the assistant. To render this sketch of the insti- 
tution where young Irving received the earlier 
principles of his sciiool-education less imperfect, 
it may be stated that the slender duodecimo 
volume of Morse's geograpliy was in use. This 
book was a novelty in sciiool-apparatus, being 
the first of its kind which professed an account 
of the ditierent States of the Union, and it en- 
listed the attention of the schoolmasters. The 
glowing description of New England by the 
reve.end autlior, its fertile soil and products, 
often invoked a smile from the old Knickerbocker 
instructors. The picture whicii the patriotic 
autlior had drawn of Wethersfield, its fair dam- 
sels and its exuberant onions, invoked merriment 
among the juvenile learners, and secured for a 
wiiile for the book the sobriquet, the onion edi- 
tion. There was, besides, a special teacher of 
elocution, in partial association with the acade- 
my, by the name of Milne. He was the com- 
piler of a book entitled the Well-bred Scliolar ; a 
nuxn of taste, a dramatic writer, if not a per- 
former. He possessed a magisterial air, a robust 
and athletic fulness; lived plethoric, and died, I 
believe, apoplectic. He was an Englishman by 
birth, and perhaps the first among us, in the 
progress of instruction, who attempted expound- 
ing the art of -speaking. "Where or how young 
Irving acquired a knowledge of the classics I am 
unable to say. We had but three or foiar schools 



of any pretensions among us in that department 
of education at that time, and Irving, so far as 
I can learn, was not a scholar of Edward Riggs, 
a renowned teacher of the Latin, and the autlK)r 
of a popular grammar of that tongue — the first, 
indeed, of American manufacture in New York, 
as that of the famous old Cheever was of that 
of Boston. Irving, however, was preparing to 
enter Columbia College, but health prevented 
his further progress. 

Some few years after we find Irving a student 
at law with that eminent advocate, the late 
Josiah Ogden Hoftnian. W^hat proficiency lie 
made in that abstract study must be left to con- 
jecture ; but in due season he opened a law-office 
in Pearl-street, near Coenties Slip. His health 
was still precarious, and he was threatened with 
pulmonary mischiefs. He \vas slender and deli- 
cate in appearance, but never weary in measures 
to improve his condition. For wholesome ex- 
ercise he carried into practical operation a sug- 
gestion to be engaged in some mechanical opera- 
tion daily, and for a specified time to saw wood, 
in an ai)artment below his ofiice ; and it is more 
than probable that this service proved of greater 
benefit to his physical powers than might have 
been derived at that time from nostrums and a 
sea- voyage. 

We need scarcely apprehend falling into error 
when we atfirin that his law-office proved 
neither burdensome to his mental nor physical 
faculties. The legal ])rofession, tlien, as now, 
abounded in numbers and in great talent. More- 
over, the contemplative qualities of Irving were 
directed in otiier channels. He needed diver- 
sion ; he demanded variety ; and his views of life 
were coinpreiiensive. It is a remark well founded, 
that realities are but dimly to be traced in the 
twilight of the imagination, and tlie first im- 
pulses of geuius are often to be illustrated by tlie 
subsequent career of the individual. Young 
Irving at school was a quiet boy. I can narrate 
no wild freaks or sports, originating from his 
conduct. It is true, that excejit from the gen- 
eral good order of his section of the room, and 
his devotion to reading, I had little chance to 
do more than occasionally look at him as at 
other scholars, witness his movements in the 
streets, and observe his rather taciturn and se- 
questered way. He seemed to have a habit of 
loneliness or abstraction ; but he was early a 
reader, and I might say an observer from the 
beginning to the end of his life. These quali- 
ties, it is not to be supposed, were so prominent 
as to induce special notice among his school- 
associates at that period of his life; yet as his 
teacher seemed to bestow particular attention on 
his pupil, and often spoke of it in after time, his 
maturer wisdom may have found in his scholar 

sxxiii 



Fondness fok the Dbama. 



a temperament of peculiar indications, and thus 
tolerated the impulse of a youth who gave 
promise of character. Among the incidents of 
young Irving's life, we know him to have been 
remarkable for his pedestrian excursions ; at 
times alone, sometimes accompanied with his in- 
timate friends, Paulding, Brevoort, Veri)lanck, 
and Blauvelt, an unfledged poet of New Jersey. 
His rambles at Weehawken and Powles' Hook ; 
his tours to the Passaic ; his grouse excursions 
at Hempstead; his walks throngh the Stuyve- 
sant lane of cherry-trees (which, it may be re- 
marked, passed directly thrt)Ugh the very grounds 
on which this edifice wliere we are now con- 
vened stands), all betrayed that love of nature 
-which he has so luxuriantly unfolded in his cap- 
tivating writings. 

Tliese rambles ^vere profitable to health and 
wholesome to intellect; they furnished materials 
for contemplation and enlarged intellectual capa- 
city : but Irving at tliis juncture in early man- 
hood sought out other resources of mental grati- 
fication. He was bookish, and he read; he indi- 
vidualized the author whom he studied, and he 
extended the circle of his personal associations. 
He must have formed an acquaintance with a 
])ortion of that mass of men who flourished at 
that dawn of literary effort in this city. His pro- 
fession, that of law, had secured to him some 
knowledge of Hamilton and Burr, of Harrison 
and Golden, of Williams and Jay, of Jones and 
Livingston ; but with a generous freedom he could 
seek out Brown, tlie novelist, Linn, the poet, 
Allsop, Clifton, and Low. This you will say is a 
brief list; but genuine writers at that day were 
not a common article. In my searches after nov- 
elties I have walked a day to cast a glance at an 
author ; and a reward of a thousand dollars could 
not bring forth for inspection a penny-a-liner. 
For my own part I distinctly recollect the first 
time I caught a glimpse of Noah Webster, when I 
felt a triumph as if I had made a discovery in 
philosophy. But there were other sources of in- 
struction abundantly accessible to all, and Irving 
would draw wisdom from them : the acting drama 
of those times yielded gratification to the most re- 
fined in taste: the remnant of the old American 
company of performers was stii-ring in their vo- 
cation and the great renown which waited u])on 
their achievements was recognized as substantial- 
ly earned. That Irving's imagination was at an 
early iieriod enamored of scenic exhibitions, and 
that he took great delight in theatrical displays, 
as holding the " mirror up to nature," is the con- 
current testimony of all acquainted with him 
during his minority. That his mind was fructi- 
fied by a close study of the older dramatists I 
'.liiuk a safe inference. He studied the Spanish 
language the better to comprehend the Spanish 
xxxiv 



drama. That fountain of knowledge yields a liv- 
ing spring to all who desire to delineate human 
character ; and who has excelled Irving in that 
branch of intricate illustration? The animating 
movements, the pictures(]ue displays made fiction 
almost a reality, and illumined a mind so suscep- 
tible of impression. The drama, with sensibilities 
like his, roused to newness of reflection, dissipa- 
ted ennui, and invoked the inner powers of a 
lonely student to increased literary effort. He 
nmst have availed himself of these advantages, 
now still further multiplying by the efforts of 
Dunlap and Smith to add novelty to the stage, if 
not by gorgeous scenery, yet by the bringing for- 
ward the popular productions of Kotzebue and 
Schiller, the acknowledged masters of the drama 
at that time in Germany. A personal knowledge 
of some facts, and the humorous and critical dis- 
quisitions on the stage, which Irving published 
shortly after, over the name of Jonathan Oldstyle, 
demonstrate his intimacy with this species of lit- 
erature. His Salmagundi adds to our proofs of 
this fact. 

'I forbear to enter into a consideration of the 
literary labors of Mr. Irving, voluminous as they 
are, and precious as the world acknowledges 
them. His Knicl~eriocl~er''s History excited an 
interest in the metropolis never before roused up 
by any literary occurrence ; scarcely, perhaps, by 
any public event. The reading community, upon 
its first appearance, were seized with amaze- 
ment at the wondrous antiquai-ian research of 
the author, his lifelike pictures of the olden 
times, and his boundless humor and refined wit ; 
and many melted in sympathy at the fate of old 
Diedrick himself, the deserted inhabitant of the 
Mulberry -street tenement. I confess myself to 
have been one of the thousands who sought out 
his obscure lodgings in vain. The brilliant 
career of Mr. Irving may be dated from the pub- 
lication of this assumed history, and the "wheel of 
fortune now turned in his behalf. The book was 
received by Campbell, the poet : through the 
hands of Heni-y Brevoort, Walter Scott possessed 
a copy, and almost raved with delight in its pe- 
rusal. The omnipotent wit and satirist, George 
Canning, had nigh fractured his ribs by laughter 
over its pages. Tlie reading public s«ught after 
it, and what the select averred, the masses con- 
firmed. Mr. Irving now became the lion of Lon- 
don, and of the literary world. It is, however, 
not of his writings that I would wish to speak, at 
present, but rather confine myself to a few remi- 
niscences of his individuality. The ample page of 
criticism has already recorded his vast literary 
merits,, and inscribed his name on the tablet of 
immortality. He is national, he is universal. 

Did not the lateness of the evening forbid, I 
would dwell upon that remarkable faculty which 



Chaeactekistics. 



Irving possessed of rejoicing.in the luxuries and 
beauties of nature ; his love of animals, and his 
kindly feelings for their comfort ; his delight in 
surveying the garden and the farm-yard ; his 
zeal to behold the anoraaliea of the vegetable 
world; his gratification in comprehending the 
labors of the naturalist; and I would attempt to 
point out how the defects of the schools of his 
boyhood were overcome by reading, and a close 
observation of men and things. He had the 
power of drawing knowledge from minute as 
well as great occurrences, from the ludicrous as 
well as the severe. He lias more than once 
dwelt with me upon the odd characters he had 
encountered in the streets of our city, in those 
early days, and none seems to have made a 
stronger impression on him than the once famous 
Wilhelm Hoftraeister, popularly known as Billy 
the Fiddler. I do not know whether this musi- 
cal genius and singularly-constructed man tiuds 
a place in any of Irving's writings. 

You all, gentlen^en, have dwelt upon the 
genial humor of Irving ; his kindly nature was 
ever apparent. An instance in illustration I 
will give. Upon his return from his tirst Euro- 
pean tour, after an absence of two years, lie had 
scarcely entered into his parent's domicile in 
AVilliam-sti'eet, when his first inquiry was con- 
cerning the condition and prospects of an unfor- 
tunate maimed boy, of the neighborhood, who 
possessed singular qualities of mental organiza- 
tion. Mr. Irving had a marvellous tendency to 
the curious. Had he walked through a lunatic 
asylum he would seem to have been qualified to 
write a treatise on insanity ; had he been bred 
to physic, — could his sensibilities have endured 
such servitude, — he might have become famous 
for his descriptive powers in diagnostic pathol- 
ogy. Language like this may sound extrava- 
gant ; but the devoted reader of his pages will 
be strengthened in sucii an opinion, by comparing 
the propriety and clearness of his diction in all 
he utters touching the subject in hand, whether 
belonging to the scliools of ai'ts or of letters, 
whether in technical science or in the philosophy 
of nature. Mr. Irving was the best judge of his 
own faculties and attainments, and what he as- 
sumed he accomplished. His competitor is yet 
to be discovered. 

His courteous and benignant intercourse with 
others, whether in the humbler or the higher 
walks of life, Avas of so captivating a cliaracter 
as never to create a rebellious feeling, but ever 
awaken emotions of friendship. Unobtrusive, 
with his vast merits, nay almost timid, he won 
esteem from all beholders. He possessed a quick 
discernment in the analysis of character. I will 
give an example. Jarvis, the painter, had just 
finished the liead of a venerable member of the 



bar, and courteousl}- requested, Lavater-like, Mr. 
Irving's opinion of the character. " You have 
faithfully delineated the Genius of Dulness," 
replied Irving. Tlie answer was a biography of 
the individual. There was a trait of singular 
and peculiar excellence in Mr. Irving, — of all 
mortals he was the freest of envy ; and merit of 
every order he was ready to recognize. A lit- 
erary man, ^mr excellence^ he could admire the 
arts, and look upon mechanical skill and the ar- 
tisan with the feelings, if not the acquisition, of 
the most accomplished in scientific pursuits ; he 
knew that intellect presided in mechanics as well 
as in tlie Homeric song. He endured without 
annoyance the renown which waited upon the 
career of Fenimore Cooper ; nay, he has writ- 
ten of the genius of his great rival in terms of 
strongest laudation, in admiration of his noble 
conceptions and his graphic powers. In like 
manner has he treated our Bryant. He rarely 
volunteered his opinion, but he never turn- 
ed his back on what he had once expressed. 
Were I to concentrate my views on the more 
immediate sources of that knowledge, in his 
several writings, which he disi)layed with such 
copious profusion both in active life and in let- 
ters, I would afiirm that a cautious reading of 
good authors, an almost unquenchable thirst for 
dramatic literature in early manhood, and a wide 
observation, secured by much travel, of the 
scenery of tiie bustling world, and of nature her- 
self, had fertilized that peculiar and susceptible 
mind, and given to his happy mental organiza- 
tion its most potent charms. 

The deduction is safe, if formed even from the 
study of his writings alone, that he was fond of 
incidents and adventures ; they enriched his gal- 
lery for illustration. Like Hawthorne, he ad- 
mired a snow-storm ; he loved music ; he loved 
little children, that faithful index of the human 
soul, and often participated in their innocent 
sports. He abjured excess, and was, at all times, 
moderate in indulgence at the table. He detested 
tobacco in every form, with all the abhorrence of 
Doctor Franklin or Daniel Webster. 

His toilet was neat ; his dress free from pecu- 
liarities : the extremes of fashion never reached 
him. His portrait, with the am]>le furred coat, 
executed by Jarvis, and i)ainted after the appear- 
ance of the Knickerbocker history, is the most 
characteristic of him at tliat period of his life, 
and gives the most striking idea of his mental 
aspect, as he was daily seen in public, accompa- 
nied with his friend Renwick, or with the superb 
Decatur, or old Ironsides. 

About two months before his death, Mr. 
Irving made his final visit to this city from his 
residence at Sunnj'side. He had an official trust 
to fulfil as President of the Board of Trustees 

XXXV 



Mk. Longfellow's Address. 



of the Astor Librurj- : he manifested no si)ecial 
indications of alarming i)hysical sntterinjj;. Yet 
it was observed lie had less of muscular strenirth, 
and that his frame was much attenuated. With 
hi's intimate friend, the learned librarian, Dr. 
Cogswell, having surveyed with gratification the 
improvements of the enlarged editice and the 
accessions of books recently made to that great 
institution, he remarked with some earnestness, 
"What, Doctor, might have been my destiny could 
I have commanded these treasures in my youth !" 

Foreign criticism has exerted her relined pow- 
ers in unfolding the merits and tlie beauties in- 
herent in tiie writings of our illustrious friend 
and associate; the scliools of Addison and of 
Johnson have each awarded to him the laurel. 
At home a dissentient voice has not been ex- 
pressed, and tlie republic at large has testified to 
the parity of his princi[)les and the worth of his 
labors b^' a sale almost unparalleled in tlie ainials 
of bibliopoly. Allibone, with the impartiality of 
a literary historian, has given us a charming view 
of this gratifying truth. But I .shall make but 
one brief citation on the subject of our national 
author's (pialities ; it is from a classical pen, that 
has repeatedly dwelt upon the delectable harmony 
of the life and literature of Irving. I have taken 
it from Tuckerman ; could I have written half so 
well I would have preferred my own language: 

"■Tlie outline of his works," says Mr. T., "should 
be filled by the reader's imagination with the 
accessories and coloring incident to so varied, 
honorable, and congenial a life. In all his wan- 
derings, his eye was busied with the scenes of 
nature, and cognizant of their every feature ; his 
memory brooded over the tradition of the 
jiast, and his heart caught and reflected every 
jihase of hunianity. Witii the feelings of a poet 
and the habitudes of an artist, he then wan- 
dered over the rural districts of merry England, 
tlie melanclioly hills of romantic Spain, and the 
exuberant wilderness of his native land, gather- 
ing U]) tliL'ir most ])icturesque aspects and their 
most affecting legends, and transffrring them, 
Avitli the pure and varied colors of his genial ex- 
jiression, into permanent memorials." 

Posterity, to wiiom he may most safely be 
confided, will neither forget the man nor his 
Avritings: these unfold the treasures of a com- 
manding genius, with the excellencies of an un- 
])aralleled diction, while of the author himself 
we may enii)hatically atfirm that his literary 
jiroducts are a faithful transcript of his peculiar 
mind. He enjojs a glorituis triumpli : we need 
not plead in extenuation of a line that he has 
jienned. Let us console ourselves at liis loss 
that he was a native and "to the manor born," 
that his life was immaculate and without re- 
proach, and that in death he triumphed over its 
xxxvi 



terrors. Let it be our jiride that the patriarch of 
American literature is indissolublj' connected, in 
his mighty fame, with the Father of his Country. 



PROCEEDINGS OF THE MASSACHUSETTS HIS- 
TORICAL SOCIETY. 
A SPECIAL meeting of this Society was held at 
the residence of its Vice-President, the Hon. Da- 
vid Sears, Boston, Dec. 15, 1859. After a formal 
announcement of the deatli of Mr. Irving, by tlie 
President, the follovying resolutions were ottered 
by Mr. Henry W. Longfellow: 

UK. Longfellow's address. 

Every reader has his first book. I mean to 
say, one book among all others, which in eai'ly 
youth first fascinates his imagination, and at 
once excites and satisfies the desires of his mind. 
To me this first book was the Sketch Book of 
Washington IrVing. I was a school-boy when 
it was published, and read each succeeding num- 
ber with ever-increasing wonder and delight; 
spell-bound by its pleasant humor, its melancholy 
tenderness, its atmo.s[)here of reverie, nay, even 
by its gray-brown covers, the shaded letters of 
the titles, and the fair, clear type, which seemed 
an outward symbol of the style. 

How many delightful books the same author 
has given us, written before and since — volumes 
of history and fiction, most of which illustrate 
his native land, and some of which illumine it, 
and make the Hudson, I will not say as classic, 
but as ronnintic as the Rhine! Yet still the 
cliarm of the Sketch Book remains unbroken ; 
the old fascination still lingers about it ; and 
whenever I open its pages, I open also that mys- 
terious door which leads back into the haunted 
chambers of youth. 

Many years afterwards, I had the pleasure of 
meeting Mr. Irving in Spain, and found the au- 
thor, whom I had loved, repeated in the man. 
The same playful humor; the same touches of 
sentiment; the same poetic atmosphere; aud, 
wiiat I admired still more, the entire abs'ence of 
all literary jealousy, of all that mean avarice of 
fame, which counts what is given to another as 
so much taken from one's self — 

" Anil rustliiii; hoars in every breeze, 
The laurels of Miltiades." 

At this time Mr. Irving was at Madrid, en- 
gaged upon his Life of Columhus ; and if the 
work itself did not bear ample testimony to his 
zealous and conscientious labor, I could do so 
from personal observation. He seemed to be 
always at work. "Sit down," lie would sa\ ; 
"I will talk with you in a moment, but I mu>t 
first finish this sentence." 

One summer morning, passing his house at 



Mk. Everett's Address. 



the early hour of six, I saw his studj' window 
already wide open. On my mentioning it to 
him afterwards, he said: "Yes, I am always at 
my work as early as six." Since then I have 
often remembered that sunny morning and that 
open window, so suggestive of his sunny tem- 
perament and his open heart, and equally so of 
his patient and persistent toil ; and have recalled 
tliose striking words of Dante: 

"Seggeniio in piuma, 
In fania non si vien, ne sotto coltre : 
Senza la qual chi sua vita coiisuiiia, 
Cotal vestigio in terra di se lasci:i, 
Qual fumo in aere, od in aequa la scliiuina." 

"Seated upon down, 
Or in his bed, man coineth not to fame, 
Wiihouten whicii, whoso bis life consumes, 
Such vestige of himself on earth shall leave, 
As smoke in air, and in the water foam." 

Remembering tiiese things, I esteem it a gi'eat 
though a melancholy privilege, to lay upon his 
hearse the passing tribute of these resolutions: 

ResoUed^ That while we deeply dei)lore the 
death of our friend and associate, Washington 
Irving, we rejoice in the completeness of his life 
and labors, which, closing together, have left be- 
hind them so sweet a fame, and a memory so 
precious. 

Resolved^ That we feel a just pride in his re- 
nown as an author, not forgetting that, to his 
otiier claims upon our gratitude, he adds also 
tliat of having been tlie tirst to win for our 
country an honorable name and position in the 
History of Letters. 

Resolved^ That we hold in affectionate remem- 
brance the noble example of his long litei-ary 
career, extending through half a century of un- 
remitted labors, graced with all the amenities of 
anthoi'ship, and marred by none of its discords 
an<l contentions. 

Resolved^ That as members of this Historical 
Society, we regard with especial honor and ad- 
miration, his Lives of Columbus, the Discoverer, 
and of Wushingtoii, tlie Father of our Country. 

Resolced., Tiiat a copy of these resolutions be 
transmitted to his family, with the expression of 
our deepest and sincere sym[)athy. 

MR. Everett's address. 

The Hon. Edward Everett, in seconding the 
resolutions, said : 

I cordially concur in the resolutions which 
Mr. Longfellow has submitted to the Society. 
They do no more than justice to the merits and 
character of Mr. L'ving, as a man and as a 
writer; and it is to me, sir, a vej'y i)leasing cir- 
cumstance, that a tribute like this to tlie Nestor 
of the prose writers of America — so just and so 
happily expressed^-should be paid by the most 
distinguislietl of our American poets. 

If tlie year 1769 is distinguished, above every 



other year of the last century, for the number 
of eminent men to which it gave birth ; that of 
1859 is thus far signalized in this country for the 
number of bright names which it has taken from 
us ; and surely that of Washington Irving may 
be accounted with the briglite.st on the list. 

It is eminently proper tiiat we should take a 
respectful notice of his decease. He lias stood 
for many years on tlie roll of our honorary mem- 
bei-s, and he has enriched the literature of the 
country with two first-class historical works, 
which although from their subjects they possess 
a peculiar attraction for the people of the United 
States, are yet, in general interest, second to no 
contemporary work in that department of litera- 
ture. 1 allude, of course, to the History of the 
Life and Voyages of Columbus^ and the Life of 
Washington. 

Although Mr. Irving's devotion to literature 
as a profession — and a profession pursued with 
almost unequalled success — was caused by un- 
toward events, which in ordinary cases would 
have proved the ruin of life, a rare good fortune 
attended his literary career. Witluiut having 
received a collegiate education, and destined tirst 
to the legal profession, whicli he abandoned as 
uncongenial, he had in very early life given 
promise of attaining a brilliant reputation as a 
writer. Some essays from his pen attracted 
notice before he reached his majority. A few 
years later, the numbers of the Salmagundi, to 
which he was a princiiial contributor, enjoyed a 
success throughout the United States far beyoiUl 
any former similar work, and not sui-passed, if 
equalled, by any thing whicli has since appeared. 

This was folhnved by Knicl'erl)ocher\ History 
of New York, which at once placed Mr. Irving 
at the head of American humorists. In the class 
of compositions to whicli it belongs, I know of 
nothing happier than tliis wori<, in our language. 
It has probably been read as widely, and witii as 
keen a relish, as any thing from Mr. Irving's pen. 
It would seem cynical to subject a woriv of this 
kind to an austere commentary — at least while 
we are paying a tribute to its lamented author. 
But I may be permitted to observe, that, while 
this kind of humorous writing fits well with the 
joyous temperament of youth, in the first flush 
of successful authorship, and is managed by Mr. 
Irving with great delicacy and skill, it is still, in 
my opinion, better adapted for ajeu di'esprit in a 
magazine, than for a work of considerable com- 
pass. To travesty an entire histor}' seems to me 
a mistaken effort of ingenuity, and not well ap- 
plied to the countrymen of William of Orange, 
Grotius, the De Witt.s,^ and Van Tromp. 

* 48 *. * * * * 

After Mr. Irving had been led to take up his 
resideuce ab,roi\tl au4 to, a,dopt literature as a \n-o- 

xxxvii 



Mk. Everett's Address. 



fessidii and a livcliliood — a resource to wliieli he 
was driven by llic failure of tlie commercial house 
of his relatives, of which he was nominally a part- 
ner — he produced in rapid succession a series of 
Avorks wliich stood the test of English criticism, 
and attained a popularity not sui-passed — hardly 
Cipialled — by that of any of his European contem- 
poraries. This fact, besides being attested by the 
ciitical journals of the day, may be safely inferred 
from the munificent prices jjaid by the great Lon- 
don bookseller, the elder Murray, for the copyright 
of several of his productions. lie wrote, among 
other subjects, of English manners, sports, and tra- 
ditions — national traits of character — certainly the 
most ditficult topics for a foreigner to treat, and 
he wrote at a time when Scott was almost annu- 
ally sending forth one of his marvellous novels; 
when the poetical reputation of Moore, Byron, 
Campbell, and Kogers was at tlie zenith ; and the 
public appetite was consecpiently fed almost to sa- 
tiety by these familiar domestic favorites. But 
notwithstanding these disadvantages and obstacles 
to success, he rose at once to a jjopularity of the 
most brilliant and enviable kind ; and this too in a 
branch of literature which had not been cultivat- 
ed Avith distinguished success in England since the 
time of Goldsmith, and with the exception of Gold- 
smith, not since tlie days of Addison and Steele. 

Mr. Irving's manner is often compared with 
Addison's, though, closely examined, there is no 
great resemblance between them, except that 
they both write in a simple, unaffected style, re- 
mote from the tiresome stateliness of Jolinsou 
and Gibbon. It was one of the witty, but ratlier 
ill-natured sayings of Mr. Samuel Rogers, whose 
epigrams have sometimes done as much injustice 
to his own kind ami generous nature as they did 
to the victims of his pleasantry, that Washing- 
ton Irving was Addison and water; a judgment 
which, if seriously dealt with, is altogether aside 
from the merits of the two writers, who have 
very little in common. Addison had received a 
finished classical education at the Charter House 
and at Oxford, was eminently a man of books, 
and had a decided taste for literary criticism. 
Mr. Irving, for a man of letters, was not a great 
reader, and if he possessed the critical faculty, 
never exercised it. Addison quoted the Latin 
poets freely, and wrote correct Latin verses him- 
self. Mr. Irving made no pretensions to a famil- 
iar acquaintance with tiie classics, and probaldy 
never made an hexameter in his life. Addison 
wrote some smooth English poetry, which Mr. 
Irving, I believe, never attempted ; but, with the 
exception of two or three exipiisite hymns (which 
will last as long as the English language does), 
one brilliant simile of six lines in the Campaign^ 
and one or two sententious, but not very brilliant 
passages from Cato, not a line of Addison's poetry 

xxxviii 



has been quoted for a hundred j-ears. But Mr. 
Irving's vein of humor is not inferior in ))layful 
raciness to Addison's ; his nicety of characteriza- 
tion is quite equal ; his judgment upon all moral 
relations as sound and true; his human sympa- 
thies more comprehensive, tenderer, and chaster; 
and his poetical faculty, though never develo])ed 
in verse, vastly above Addison's. One chord in 
the human heart, the pathetic, for whose sweet 
music Addison had no ear, Irving touched with 
the hand of a master. He learned that skill in 
the school of early disapi)ointment. 

In this respect the writer was in both cases 
reflected in the man. Addison, after a pro- 
tracted suit, made an "ambitious match" with a 
termagant peeress; Irving, who would as soon 
have married Hecate as a woman like the Coun- 
tess of Warwick, buried a blighted hope, never 
to be rekindled, in the grave of a youthful 
sorrow. 

As miscellaneous essayists, in which capacity- 
only they can be compared, Irving exceeds Addi- 
S(in in versatility and range, quite as much as 
Addison exceeds Irving in the far less important 
quality of classical tincture ; while as a great 
national historian, our countryman reaped lau- 
rels in a field which Addison never entered. 
***** 

It would be altogether a work of supereroga- 
tion to engage in any general commentary on 
the merits of Mr. Irving's two great historical 
works, and the occasion is not appropriate for a 
critical analysis of them. They have taken a 
recognized i)lace in the historical literature of 
the age, and stand, by all confession, in the front 
rank of those works of history of wliicii this 
century and especially this country has been so 
honorably prolific. Reserving a distinguished 
place apart for the venerable name of Marshall, 
Mr. Irving leads the long line of American his- 
torians — first in time and not second in beauty 
of stjde, conscientious accuracy, and skilful ar- 
rangement of materials. As his two works treat 
respectively of themes, which for purel}- Ameri- 
can interest stand at the head of all single sub- 
jects of historical research, so there is no one of 
our writers to whom the united voice of the 
country would with such cheerful unanimity 
have intrusted their composition. 

From tlie time that he entered for life upon a 
literary career, Mr. Irving gave himself almost 
exclusively to its pursuit. He filled the office of 
Charge d'Affaires for a short time in London, 
prior to his return to the United States, and that 
of Minister to Spain from 1842 to 1846. His 
diplomatic dispatclies in that ca[)acity are among 
tlie richest of the treasures which lie buried in 
tlie public archives at Washington. 

A Muire beautiful life than Mr. Irving's can 



Mk. Sumner's Lettek, 



hardly be imagined. Not uncheckered with ad- 
versity, his early trials, under the sootliing in- 
fluence of time, without subduing the natural 
cheerfulness of his disposition, threw over it a 
mellow tenderness, which breathes in his habit- 
ual trains of thought, and is reflected in the 
amenity of his style. His misfortunes in busi- 
ness, kindly overruled by a gracious Providence, 
laid the foundation of literary success, reputa- 
tion, and prosperity. At two dilferent periods 
of his career he engaged in public life; entering 
it with ambition; performing its duties with 
diligence and punctuality ; and leaving it with- 
out regret. He was appointed Charge d'Atfaires 
to London under General Jackson's administra- 
tion, and Minister to Spain under Mr. Taylor's, 
the only instances, perliaps, in this century, in 
which a distinguished executive appointment 
has been made without a thought as to the 
political opinions of the person appointed. Mr. 
Irving's appointment to Spain was made on the 
recommendation of Mr. Webster, who told me 
that he regarded it as one of the most honora- 
ble memorials of his administration of the de- 
partment of State. It was no doubt a pleasing 
circumstance to Mr. Irving, to return in his ad- 
vancing years, crowned with public honors, to 
the country where, in earlier life, he had pur- 
sued his historical studies with so much success ; 
but puWic life had no attraction for him. The 
respect and affection of the community followed 
him to his retirement; he lived in prosi)erity 
without an ill-wisher ; finished the work which 
was given him to do, amidst the blessings of his 
countrymen, and died amidst loving kindred in 
honor and peace.* 

Speeches were also made by Professor Felton, 
Doctor O. W, Holmes, Colonel Aspinwall, and 
others, after which the resolutions were unani- 
mously adopted. 

LETTER FEOM GEOEGE SUMNEK. 

The following letter from Mr. George Sumner 
was read by Mr. Longfellow : 

Boston, December 15, 1S59. 

My dear Longfellow : An imperative en- 
gagement calls me in half an hour from the city, 
and will deprive me of the melancholy satisfac- 
tion of joining, this evening, in the tribute of the 
Historical Society to the memory of Washington^ 
Irving. 

Others will speak of his literary fame — of his 
style — as graceful and delicate as that of Charles 
Nodier — and of the choi'ds of ever-sensitive feel- 

* The omitted portion of Mr. Everett's Address is a recapitu- 
lation of Mr. Irving's writings, already givea in the previous 
'• Memoranda." 



ing he has touclied — which cause the Sketch 
Book to be more widely read, in its original 
tongue^ than any book in our language except 
the Vicar of Wakefield. I Avould fain, if ])res- 
ent, speak of his genial and constant frieiKlsliip 
— of his faith in man — and of his readiness to 
find good in every thing. 

There is also one part of his life — the least 
familiar, perhaps, to the public — on which it 
seems fitting that something should be said — I 
mean his diplomatic career as Minister to Spain. 
He was there at a moment of great political 
excitement — when tlie party which had most 
strongly toiled for liberty, being in power, 
" veiled temporarily," to use the borrowed lan- 
guage of one of its minister's proclamations, 
" veiled temporarily the statue of the law," and 
having done this, fell. 

In the turmoil that ensued, delicate questions 
arose, which Mr. Irving treated with promptness 
and success. 

On one occasion, citizens of the United States, 
resident as merchants in Spain, had been com- 
pelled to serve in the National Guard. Mr. Ir- 
ving's protest against this was met by the decla- 
ration that the property of these Americans 
being protected by the National Guard, it was 
tlieir duty to join its ranks. In the correspond- 
ence that ensued, as in all his relations with the 
Spanish government, Mr. Irving showed the 
suavity so congenial to his nature, and so pre- 
sumptive of latent force. He carried all liis 
p<Myts, and gave a lesson of conduct to other 
diplomatists. 

In his career as a Minister, as in his social life, 
there was a constant recognition of the rights of 
others — and, as the natural result of this, a con- 
stant respect on the part of others for his own 
riglits. 

Mr. Irving was, in the largest sense of the 
word, a national man — keenly alive to the honor 
and good name of the Republic — and his honest 
nature revolted at any forgetfulness of it on the 
part of those whom the people have selected as 
their representatives. He was too hopeful to 
give way to despair, but he was moved, even to 
tears, by the spectacle which our country pre- 
sented, not many years ago, of a succession of 
expeditions fitted out to invade the territory of 
a friendly power ; and he had read history too 
well not to see in these forays examples Avhicli 
wauld return to plague their inventors. 

His civic life was as honorable, and as true to 
the principles of the founders of the Republic, as 
was his public career as Minister — but this will 
doubtless be fully treated by his biographer. It 
is enough for the present to say tliat, to those 
who had the privilege of his intimacy, liis char- 
acter seemed, in every respect, complete. We 

xxxix 



SUNNYSIDE. 



drop a tear upon tlie grave of the author — tlie 
friend — tlie public servant — the citizen. 
Ever faithfull}' yours, 

Georgb Sumner. 



SUNNYSIDE.* 
December 1, 1859. 

BY HENRY TIIKODORE TUCKERMAN. 

The dear, qnahit cottage, as we pass, 
No clambering rose or locusts hide ; 

And dead leaves fleck the matted grass, — 
And shadow rests on Sunnyside: 

Not by the flying cloud-rack cast, 

Nor by the summer foliage bred, 
The life-long shadow which the Past 

Lets fall where cherish'd joys have fled : 

For he whose fancy wove a spell 

As lasting as the scene is fair, 
And made the mountain, stream, and dell 

His own dream-life forever share ; 

He who with England's household grace, 
And with the brave romance of Spain, 

Tradition's lore and Nature's face. 
Imbued his visionary brain ; 

Mused in Granada's old arcade 

As gusli'd the Moorish fount at noon. 

With the last minstrel thoughtful stray'd 
To ruin'd shrines beneath the moon ; 

And breathed the tenderness and wit 
Thus garner' tl, in expression pure, 

As now his thoughts witli hum<ir flit, 
And now to patlios wisely lure; 

Who traced with sympathetic hand. 
Our peerless chieftani's high career ; 

JIu life, that gladden'd all the land. 
And blest a home — is ended here. 

What pensive cliarms of nature brood 

O'er the familiar scene to-day. 
As if, with smile and tear she wooed 

Our hearts a mutual rite to pay ! 

The river that he loved so well. 
Like a full heart, is awed to calm. 

The winter air that wafts his knell 
Is fragrant with autumnal balm. 

A veil of mist hangs soft and low 
Above the Catskill's wooded range, 

While sunbeams on the slope below 
Their shroud to robes of glory change. 

How to the mourner's patient sight 
Glide the tall sails along the shore. 

Like a procession clad in white 
Down a vast temple's crystal floor. 

So light the haze, its floating shades. 
Like tears through which we dimly see, 

* These lines Appeared in the New York Evening Post, with 
the fiiUdwini: cflltdrinl introduction : 

"The Iniivity of ilie day on which Mr. Irvine's funeral took 
place, and the iharinin<; aspect of" the surrounding country, in 
tlie glorious sunshine which then closed our ion" Indian Sum- 
mer, havj proin|>ted tije ensuins; lines, which we haVo from the 
pen of afrieml of ihe departed author, himself eminent in tlie 
World of letters." 
Xl 



With incense crown the Palisades, 

With purple wreathe the Tappaan Zee. 

And ne'er did more serene re^iose 

Of cloud and siuishine, brook and brae, 

Kound Sleepy Hollow fondly close, 
Than on its lover's burial day. 



WASHINGTON IRVING.* 

Tnus it -vvill be seen that the life of Washing- 
ton Irving liad been mostly pas.^ed in literary la- 
bors. Tliese acquired him a fame no less solid 
and extensive on the other side of the Atlantic 
than here, and his works, wliich are nuinci'ous 
and take in a cousideruhle diversity of subjects, 
form a j)art of the acknowledged classics of the 
English language. He wrote with such a charm 
and grace of expression, that the mere fascination 
of his style would often prove powerful enough to 
keep the reader intent upon his pages when the 
subject itself might not liaj)pen to interest him. 
His humor was of a jiecujiar (luality, always deli- 
cate in character, and yet enriched with a certain 
quaint poetic coloring, which added greatly to its 
etiect. His graver Avritings have no less beauty, 
and several of thera prove that, as is often the 
case with men who possess a large share of hu- 
mor, he was no less a master in tiie pathetic, and 
knew how to touch the heart. His Life of Oli- 
ver Goldsniith always seemed to us one of the 
most delightful works of biography ever written 
— we doubt whether Goldsmitli himself, even if 
he had been so fortunate in his subject, could 
have executed his task so well. 

It was the happiness of Mr. Irving that he 
retained his fine powers in all their vigor to the 
last. The closing years of his life were occupied 
in writing the Life of Washington, a sulyect 
worthy to be committed to the hands of one who 
could relate events so charmingly, and portray 
character with such admirable skill. Having ex- 
ecuted that task in a manner to satisfy tliose 
whose expectations were tiie iiighest, lie regarded 
his litei'ary labors as finished, and looked forward 
calmly to the end of life. He survived the issue 
of his last volume but a few months. His rising 
on the world of letters was in what might almost 
be called the morning of our literature, and after 
completing his course, his setting takes place in 
the midst of a crowd of luminaries, among whom 
his orb shines with no less brightness tlian at its 
meridian. 

Mr. Irving was one of the most amiable and 
gentle of men ; a man of exceeding modesty, 
never willing to set forth his own pretensions, 

* From an obituary editorial notice In the Evening Post 
Nov. 'J'.i, l^.:.l». 



The Knightly Family of Drum. 



and leaving to tlie public tlie care of liis literary 
reputation. He iiad no taste foi- controversy of 
any sort. His manners were mild, and his con- 
versation in tlie society of tliose with whom he 
Avas intimate, was most genial and playful. 



THE LATE WASHINGTON IRVING."" 

TiiE daily newspapers of New York have fur- 
nished such full and interesting accounts of the 
death and burial of this greatly beloved man, as 
to leave little scope 'for remark by us. Never- 
theless, as the name is in some degree identified 
with tiie interests of Staten Island, from the 
residence among us of two of the family, in 
pul)lic positions, we have endeavored to comply 
with the solicitations of some friends, and have 
gathered a few additional facts in relation to the 
departed. 

Washington Irving was the descendant of a 
good family in the north of Scotland. The 
parent stock is known as "the knightly fjiraily 
of Drum," and is still settled at the old castle, or 
" Tower of Drum," as it is there called, occupy- 
ing the same estate granted by Kobert Bruce, in 
1306, to Sir William de Irw^'n, the direct ances- 
tor of the present proprietor. It is situated on 
the banks of the L>ee, about ten miles from 
Aberdeen, and being a curiosity as "the oldest 
in!ial)ited house in Scotland," has been visited 
by not a few American travellers. 

A second son of this family, after the manner 
of Scottish houses, left the paternal roof, and, 
under the patronage of tlie crown, settled in the 
Orkneys. Tliere lie acquired large possessions 
and influence; his descendants, fur a long while, 
were seated at Gairstay and Quhome, the names 
of their estates and dwellings. There they en- 
countered the various vicissitudes of the world, 
enjoying prosperity for a time, and afterwards 
adverse fortunes ; and there, as their celebrated 
American descendant once remarked, " we will 
not say they Jiouriahed, but dwindled and dwin- 
dled and dwindled, until the last of them, nearly 
a hundred years since, sought a new home in 
this new world of ours." 

The local laws of the island — i. e., the ancient 
" Udal" laws, which required in title deeds the 
statement of relationship of parties mentioned 
therein — tlie possession of old parchment deeds, 
and tlie ofticial records of the county, have pre- 
served with singular clearness and accuracy the 
line of our American author's descent. 

William Irving, the father of Washington, 
came to this country in 1763, having previously 
married an English lady by the name of Sanders, 

* From tlie Richmond Ctmuttj Ga-.etle, Dec. 14, 1S59. 



in Cornwall, England. He was a member of the 
established Church of Scotland, and he became 
afterwards an officer of tlie Presbyterian " Brick 
Meeting," on the Park, New York. lie was a 
constant and devout student of the Scriptures, 
regular in the habit of family worship, and 
greatly respected for uprightness. His wife was 
a " Churcli of England" wonnin, the grand- 
daughter of a clergyman of that Church ; and 
to this influence may be ascribed the fact that 
all of lier children, with one exception, became 
attached to the Protestant Episco[)al Church in 
the United States. She was a wt)inan of vigor- 
ous intellect, oi)en and generous disjiosition, and 
of truly devout habit and atYections. 

AVashington Irving was born on the third, not 
on the thirteenth of A[)ril, as some of tlie pa[)ers 
have stated, in the year 1783. When a child, he 
was not remarkable for brightness, and his sur- 
viving brother has often told an anecdote of his 
returning from school one day, when about eight 
years of age, with this remark to his mother, 
'' The madame says I am a dunce ; isn't it a pity ! " 
A ve-ry delicate constitution, and prolonged ill- 
health, such as sent him abroad soon after he came 
of age, prevented his availing himself of the ad- 
vantages of education which were placed before 
him, and he abandoned the intention of lollowing 
his brother, the late judge, to the old halls of Co- 
lumbia College. He was, however, by no means 
an idler, oi- iudiflerent to the cultivation of his 
mind. His elder brothers, William and Peter, 
were men of much literary taste and ciiltivatioH, 
and under their guidance his reading was direct- 
ed and his own taste formed. 

For a short period he read law with the lite 
Judge Josiah Ogden Hotfinan. but ill healLh, as 
we have intimated, broke up this study. Arid 
here we ma}' now mention, that through this con- 
nection grew up that intimacy between our be- 
loved author and a daughter of the bite Judge 
Hoffman, which was early terminated by the 
death of the lady ; an incident which, from our 
knowledge of Mr. Irving's disposition, we doubt 
not had its influence upon him all through his 
life. We cannot but think that we And a leaf 
from liis own experience in a passage of his charm- 
ing paper on '" Newstead Altliey," where he says : 
"An early, innocent, and unfortunate i)assion, 
however fruitfiil of pain it may be to the man, is 
a lasting advantage to the poet. It is a well of 
sweet and bitter fancies; of refined and gentle 
sentiments; of elevated and ennobling thoughts, 
shut up in the deep recesses of the heart, keejiing 
it green amidst the withering blights of the world, 
and by its casual gushings and overflowings, re- 
caHing at times all the freshness, and innocence, 
and enthusiasm of youthful days." It happened, 
not long ago, that during a visit to Suunyside, 
V xli 



Dr. Creighton's Discourse. 



while Mr. Irving was absent, our informant was 
quartered in Mr. I.'s own apartment, and very 
deeply it touched him to notice, that upon the 
table wliich stood by the bedside, always within 
reach, there was lying an old and well-worn copy 
of the Bible, witii the name in a lady's delicate 

hand on tlie title page, " M II ." 

More than half a century had jiassed away, and 
still the old bachelor of seventy-tive drew his 
daily comfort from this cherished memento of the 
love of his youth. 



MR. IRVING' S RELIGIOUS CHARACTER.-- 

Passages from a Sermon at Tarrytawn, Dec. 4, 1859. 

BY THE KEV. DR. OKEIGHTOX. 

In referring to the heavy loss which we have 
sustained, and which will be deplored by every 
one wlierever the English language is spoken, I 
do not propose to dwell on his literary reputa- 
tion. World wide as it is, his fame does not 
need any eulogy from me. Every one must 
know how greatly he has advanced the litera- 
ture of the country, and how deep is the debt 
which we owe him in that behalf. I would 
rather dwell on liis religious and moral charac- 
ter ; and, in regard to the first, I thank God that 
I am permitted to indulge tliis one feeling — that 
he was sound in the faith of Christ crucified. 
I have often been asked, if our deceased friend 
was a believer, in the cardinal doctrines of our 
holy Cliristian faith, and I have declared then, 
as I now declare, that he was. This opinion 
was founded, not alone on his ordinary language 
in conversation; not only in his uninterrupted 
observance of the days and ceremonies connected 
with the Christian institution — and I have never 
heard a syllable otherwise from him — but upon 
a voluntary declaration, for wliich there was no 
occasion, except " that out of the fulness of the 
heart the mouth S[)eaketh." 

One Sabbath morning he approached me, and 
asked, why we could not have the " Gloria in 
Excelsis" sung every Sunday. I replied that I 
had no objection, and that there was nothing 
Avhatever to prevent it, and at the same time in- 
quired of him — "Do you like it?" "Like it! — 
like it!" said he; " above all things. Why, it 
contains the sum and substance of our faith, and 
I never hear it without feeling better, and with- 
out my heart being lifted up." Now, whoever 
will take tlie trouble to look at this sublime con- 
fession of faith will see that it is nothing but an 
adoration of Christ Jesus our Saviour, as God — 
as " the Lamb of God, which taketh away the 

* Keported in the New York Herald. 



sins of the world," as the Lord Christ, and of 
the Holy Ghost as equal to him in glory and in 
power. Therefore, when we consider the unob- 
trusiveness of the character of the deceased, we 
can only say that when he thus spake, the view 
which he expressed was one of the forms of 
sound words once delivered to the saints. Nor 
was he only sound in the faith. He was also 
exemplary in practice. He was not only a 
hearer, but a doer of the Word. 

You all know, how regular and punctual was 
his attendance in this church — so regular, in- 
deed, that when not seen, it was at once under- 
stood that he was either absent from home, or 
detained by indisposition. Nor was he satisfied 
in giving his bodily presence merely. This was 
not all that he desired. But the part which 
he bore in the responses showed that he came 
not only in compliance with custom, but to 
fidfil a sacred duty in offering up his humble 
prayers at the footstool of mercy. And were 
we permitted to look at the inward disposition, 
of the heart, as we are at the outward manifes- 
tation of piety, we would have seen the hinges 
of the heart bent down whenever the lips ut- 
tered the voice of prayer. The deceased was 
for many years a communicant of the Church, 
receiving on every stated occasion, Avith contrite 
spirit, the emblems of the Saviour's body and 
blood. In his intercourse with his fellow-men 
he was always the same kind and generous 
heart, and he always put the most charitable 
construction on their words and conduct. Char- 
ity with him was not a duty, but an instinct. 
Every discourse from the pulpit, or from any 
other i)lace, which set forth these things as the 
bond of peace, was certain to meet the approval 
of the deceased. Every measure for the ameli- 
oration of the condition of the poor and atHicted 
was sure to meet his approbation. The relief 
of the poor and needy — t!ie improvement of 
schools, of chapels and churches — were always of 
the deepest interest and especially interesting to 
him. Ilis advice and liis experience were al- 
ways readily given whenever required, and .his 
contributions from his purse were always of the 
most liberal kind. Of the extent of his private 
charities no man shall know until the day when 
the Saviour shall declare, "Inasmuch as ye did 
it to one of these little ones, ye did it unto me." 
lie who now addresses you has been more than 
twice the recipient of double the sum asked for, 
when the occasion was one tliat recommended 
itself. In fact, he was one of the few on whom 
positive dependence C(udd be placed for a favor- 
able answer, whenever the application was of a 
meritorious character. 

* . * * * * * « 

He alluded, in appropriate- terms, to the deep 



The Rev. Mk. Todd's Discourse. 



and affectionate interest of tlie deceased in the 
young, and continued: 

H: :): 4: H: * * :{: 

In mourning, then, for Washington Irving — a 
name revered and loved wherever and whenever 
heard — we sorrow not as those witiiout liope ; for 
we helieve that as Jesus died and rose again, so 
also those wiio sleep in Jesns shall God hring 
with Him. We sorrow not with the sorrow of 
the world, immoderately and in a re[)ining spirit, 
because we can say witii the disci [)les, Avhen tliey 
could not prevail on Paul to remain, "The Lord's 
will be done." But we sorrow because we shall 
see his face no more. No more at his own tire- 
side, at whicii were clustered cheerfulness, wit, 
humor, charity, kindness, rigiiteousness, and all 
holy aftections! No more in the social circle 
gathered at other homes, where every hand was 
extended to greet him, and every heart sprang up 
to give him the warmest welcome ! No more in 
this holy place, where his attendance was as uni- 
form as his demeanor was earnestly devout! No 
more in the ministration of the rite of baptism, 
wiiich he always attended with feelings of lively 
interest and delight! No more at our annual 
confirmations, his eyes ever gleaming witii the 
force of Christian sympathy! No more at the 
celebration of the Lord's Supper, his manner ex- 
pressive of Christian humility and heartfelt grat- 
itude to God for the privilege accorded him tiuis 
to commemorate the Saviour's love ! And if the 
Lord had vouchsafed him another week of health 
and strength, he would have been with us to-da}' 
to sliare in the solenm eating and drinking S3'm- 
bolically of the bod^' and blood of Christ. But 
he has passed, we humbly, though firudy trust, 
from the communion of the Churcli militant on 
earth to the sapper of the Lamb^to the Church 
triumphant in heaven. We shall see his face 
here no more, but his image is indelibly impress- 
ed upon our liearts, and his lovely character shall 
be cherished so long as life shall last, and honored 
so long as men have grace to cherish moral worth 
and the virtuous and honorable character of a 
holy example. 



PASSAGE FROM A DISCOURSE 

Delivered in the Second Reformed Dutch Church, at 
Tarrytown, Dec. 11,1859, 

BY THE EEV. JOHJi A. TODD.* 

I KNOW not what may be done or spoken else- 
where in regard to the departure out of this life 
of that illustrious, and honored, and beloved citi- 

* Reported in the liew York Daily Times. 



zen, whom we, in tlii^ community, were so proud 
to call our friend and neighbor; but whatever it 
may be, I cannot bring myself to believe that you, 
my hearers, are willing that he should pass away 
from among us, never more to return, and that 
his dust should be laid down to mingle with that 
of parents and dearest kindred, by the shadow 
of tiiat old Dutch church, which is the mother 
of us all, without some recognition of his indi- 
viduality — some words of tender feeling, of heart- 
felt sorrow — some expressions of love and rev- 
erence for his memory — some offering of praise 
and thanksgiving to God for the excellent gifts, 
both of head and heart, Avith which He was 
pleased to endow him — and some attempt to 
gather up, and to bring home, for our nobler 
and more spiritual uses, the solemn lessons of 
the dispensation whicli took him from us. His 
is a name to be revered and clierished. Its glory 
shines upon our country's annals. And now that 
he has gone from us, and from the land he loved 
so well, he has bequeathed to us, in his unblem- 
ished life, in his recorded words, and in his illus- 
trious name, an inheritance worthy to be highly 
prized, to be sacredly guarded. A country's 
glory is the collected glory of the great men 
whom God has given her — their high achieve- 
ments, their noble spirits, their memorable names. 
Aiul it is right tliat they should have their monu- 
ments not merely in the mute and icy marble 
that marks the spot where their ashes rest, but 
in the warm, the living, throbbing hearts of all 
her sons. 

" Think ndt such names 

Are common sounds ; they have a music in them, 

An odorous recollection ; they are a part 

Of the old glorious past. Their country knows 

And loves the lofty echo, which gives back 

The memory of the huried great. 

And calls to valor and to victory, 

To goodness and to freedom." 

Washington Irving, the patriarch of American 
literature, — the accomplisiied sciiolar, — the ad- 
mirable historian, — the elegant writer, — the won- 
derful magician, who evoked from the realms of 
thouglit the spirit of romance and beauty, and 
breathed it upon every hill and valley, upon every 
shady retreat, and every wandering brook that 
hastens on to join this noble river that pours its 
majestic volume into the sea; ay, and upon the 
very air that fans the summer verdure, or 
whistles through the branches of the wintry 
wood around us; — the pure patriot, — the diplo- 
matist, watchful for his country's honor, and yet 
skilful in the arts of preserving peace, — the kind 
and beloved neighbor, — the faithful friend, and, 
what is better than all, because it constituted 
him the "highest style of man," the modest and 
benevolent Christian, the sincere believer and 
disciple of tlie Lord Jesus Christ. AVashington 
Irving is dead ! Dead, did I say ? No ! He has 

xliii 



Dk. Chapin's Remaeks. 



just begun to live. His spirit lias gone up to tlie 
enjoyiiK'iit ot" a liiglier sphere, and its ]»()\vor upon 
tlic kindled spirit of his race has been eofisecra- 
ted by the solemn mystery of its departure. 
Ciod has given to him the precious boon of a 
twofold life — the life eternal of tlie glorified in 
lieaven, and tiie life of an luidying memory in liie 
hearts of men. And can we say of sucli a one, 
that lie is dead? True, lie has gone from us, and 
on eartii we siiall see liis face no more. 

" r.ut strew liis nslies to the wii.il, 

Whose .swonl or voiee lias serveil iii:inkiiut — 
And is he (lead whose srlorious iiiitid 

Lifus thine on hijih? 
To live in heiirls we le:ivo behind 

Is not to die." 

We liave lost his welcome presence, and it is 
for tiiat we mourn. IJut his grave is with us, and 
Jiere it will remain for genei'ations ti) come, the 
slirine of miumnbered i)i]griin feet. From tlie 
lofty eminence upon whieii lie stood, conspicuoiis 
to tlie eyes of tiie world, from his position of 
intellectual greatness and spotless dignity, he has 
passed away. The sepulchre has chiinied all of 
liim that was mortal for its own. His eye is 
ipienched ; his arm is palsied; the tongue that 
was ever eloquent with the words of kindness is 
hnslied to the ears of living men forever; the 
j)en that distilled upon the written page the sub- 
tle creations of liis brain, the ideal forms all fresh 
and fair from the realms of intellectual beauty, 
in which his spirit loved to linger, lies where he 
l.'ft. it, dead and silent, like the clay from which 
the living soul has deii.irted. And on this 
iSabbath morning while we are gathered in the 
house of (tod, his honored remains are sleei)ing 
by tiie side of her whom he called by the holy 
name of "Motiier,"' who loved liim while living, 
and whose memory lie lovetl when dying, in tiie 
grave wliicli he had appointed for his last repose. 
There — there may they slee[) in peace until these, 
heavens be no more, ami in the last day be 
laised again to the glorious resurrection of the 
just. 



PASSAGE FROM A DISCOURSE* 

New York, Dec. 4, 1859, 

BY TUB REV. DR. E. 11. CHAIMX. 

I LOOKED out the other day, and saw the flags 
floating lialf-mast in lionor of one who has just 
departed from tus. He has had comparatively 
little to do with commerce, or with national af- 
fairs. Tiiere was nothing in his career to awa- 
ken piditical sympathies, or stir the pulse of 
po|)ular agitation. And yet there were these 
tokens of general respect floating in an atmos- 

♦ Froiy the author's manuscript, 
xliv 



phere as calm and beautiful as his own spirit. 
And now do we ask, what is the reason wliy an 
entire jieople has tlius paid its tribute to the 
memory of one wlio lived so quietly, so serenely ? 
I reply, that here, too, popular sympathy is vin- 
dicated in its instincts. In tiie first place, it is ;i 
great thing to live such a calm life as he did, the 
beautiful and the good blos.soming in his man- 
hood, and ripening in his age. And in the next 
])lace, it is a great thing to elevate the intellec- 
tual life of a people, to lift it above imlitical tlis- 
cords, and mercenary, callings, and give it a 
higher and purer air. lie who does tlii.s, Inuiors 
his country, and deserves to be honored by it. 
But this has been not merely an expression of 
general sentiment, but of individual gr;ilitude 
and regard. For how many of us, now in 
middle life, find tliatsome of our richest and ten- 
derest intellectual memories have been Avrougiit 
by liim who has just ceased fn>in his labors? 
Who of us can forget the fortitude of '' the 
wife," the jiathos of " the widow's son," and 
the associations of genial humanity and do- 
mestic beauty which he has linked with our 
common world of trial and of change? Yes, he 
deserves our sympathy, he deserves our honor, 
who thus elevates the literature of a people; 
who has never written a line that he might have 
wished to blot, and has left a " sunny side" for 
many a heart and many a life. 



POSTHUMOUS INFLUENCE.* 
From a Sermon preached in St. Thomas' Church, Dec. 11, 1S59. 

BY THE REV. UR. WILLIAM F. MORGAN. 

TiiEiiK is still another and most impressive 
thought suggested by this Scriptural assertion, 
that the Dead spojik. I refer to the after-life and 
efl:'»ct of gifts and endowments — to that surviving 
power, by which men not only outwit deatli, but 
hold the living world as a whispering gallery for 
tiie conceiitions of their brain and the sentiments 
of their heart. 

As I have said, every man who dies will retain 
an audience upon earth. The carved obelisk and 
monumental shaft may s|)eak in louder tones to 
Larger circles; but the unmarked ivsting-place of 
the beggar shall pour fbrtii an oratory for soine^ 
ear, and wield an iiiliuence over some heart, as 
efi'ectual as kingly dust enshrined. 

No one is so wretchetlly forlorn — no one so 
miserably debased, but that some soul is linked 
on to his iiy fellowship in life, by nieiiKu-ies in 
death. Nevertheless, beyond all the narrower 
limits of immediate or local impression — beyond 
social xir domestic influence — there are jiosthu- 
iiKjus voices which spread and reverberate, till they 
♦ Fiom the autlior's manuscript. 



Dr. Moegan's Discouese. 



fill the "compass of the round world." Tliere 
is no s|)Ot, liowever disttuit froni his grave, where 
the morbid and inisdirectod energies of genins 
may not carry on a work of moral devastation, 
the extent of which shall mock every estimate or 
record except that of" the Book of God's remem- 
brance. There is no clime or tribe which may 
not be visiteil by the pestilential forms of licen- 
tiousness, of atheism, of monstrous, though guile- 
ful imnnirality, even while tlie men who gave 
sculptured sha|»e and fascination to those forms 
are dead and incorporate with tiie sluggish clod. 

Tlie art of jjrinting lends omnipotence to tlie 
great dejjarted. It invests their thouglits, their 
creeds, their principles, tiieir imaginations, with 
a vitality wliicli emlures and pulsates upon every 
sliore. Jt enables the good to achieve a desira- 
ble and most beiiigiumt immortality upon earth; 
it enables tlie bad to danui themselves to everlast- 
ing infamy — to speak, from generation to genera- 
tion, in the dialect of devils. It may bear a 
Jeremy Taylor down to posterity, or, it may 
bear a Thomas Paine; the one in all the fra- 
grance and beauty of his saintly spirit, and the 
other in all tiie hideousness of liis blasphemous 
and God-defying character. 

Living or dying, a great man, if also good, hal- 
loAvs his country, and elevates all Avho live in his 
time : yea, and all who sliall live in the times to 
come. It was the consciousness of this which 
stirred us all so deeply when we lately heard that 
he was dead, wliose name and influence are im- 
l)erishable. "While he lived, we felt a natural 
jiride and jiossession in all that belonged to him ; 
ids person, his healtli, his habits, his home. We 
knew that his sun was descending in the west, 
and we watched its decline. We knew that it 
must sink, and be no more seen, and we looked 
for the hour. And, when all was over — wlien 
life was gone, and the seal was set, and the day 
of burial had come, the cloud of sorrow had a 
silver lining. Xever was there a more honest 
funeral. I stood near and saw the almost inter- 
minable procession pass by the open coflin-lid. 
The expression on every face was chastened pride, 
not grief. Eacli sidelong glance at the ])lacid 
visage whispered "Well done; all now is safe; 
what he was, he shall be, amongst the posterities 
forever." Washington Irving reached the last 
goal, in faith and in deportment, a model of sim- 
])licity and sweet Cliristian benignity. Greatly 
gifted, a master in his realm, he had pre-emi- 
nently the grace of goodness; and the aroma of 
this grace fresldy ascends from all his works. He 
jtursued a steady course for scores of years witii- 
out one concession to tlie spirit of a doubting 
age — without one uttered or written word in 
su]iport of any wrong; and what was said of an- 
other eminent man, might with greater force be 



said of Idm : " He thought the ncddest occupation 
of a man was to make otlier men happy; and to 
this end he lived, Avithout one side-look, one 
yielding thougiit, one motive in his heart, whicli 
he miglit not have laid open to tiie view of God 
or man."* We knew before Ids death, and we 
know it now, tliat his writings contain not a sol- 
itary line that could leave the faintest stain upon 
the purity of youth, or the innocence of woman. 
And I make especial note of this, because, to some 
extent, he occupied a Held of intellectual effort, 
which is liable, and in our day sulijeet, to the 
most awful perversion and abuse — the Held of the 
imagination. 

It is undeniably true, that most who sul)sidize 
their gifts or acquisitions to corrujjt mankind, ad- 
dress themselves at once to this faculty, and aji- 
proacli their easy and innumerable victims, ■' to 
the beat of Dorian measures," or with 

"The soft, lascivious pleasings of the lute." 
They tread and creep upon velvet cari)ets. 
They begin witii a licentious or misleading hint, 
and end witli a loud and reverberating, x\^nien. 
They steal towards the soul and climb over its in- 
cle)sures, and beguile it, as the serpent beguiled 
Eve, witli flattering words. They come when it 
is most tender and impressible. They put on the 
imperial robe of the poetry that charms, or the 
legendary romance that fascinates even to the 
morning watch : they soar, that tJiey may sink, 
and drag down in their descent millions who might 
have reached the gate of heaven. I need not 
tell you that these painters of unreal life — these 
rovers tiirough a false, and deceitful world, have 
no higiier purpose than to Aveave into all they 
delineate or describe, the debasement of their own 
hearts — the skepticism of their own intellects, — 
the utter desolation of their own hopes and pros- 
pects. Gifted, but guilty minds, 

" — Whose poisonM sons 
"U'ould blend the bounds of right and wrong 
And hold with sweet, but cursed art 
Their incantations o'er the heart 
Till every pulse of pure desire 
Throbs with the glow of passion's fire." 

The modern press is forevermore in birth Avith 

such productions ; they SAvarin the earth and 

sweep around us and our famihes like the plague 

j of serpents or of locusts. If pernicious vieAvs of 

i life are formed, if tlie passions are inflamed, if the 

j thoughts and proclivities of liie better nature, are 

[ alienated from all that is pure and lovely and of 

I good report — it is because the appeal of our 

I literature is so continually made, not to reason, 

I not to conscience, but to the imagination ; 

! made Avith a charmed pen dipped in a licentious 

heart or a stimulated brain. And yet, the men 

* The Rev. Sydney Smith on the death of Mr. Grattan.— 
Edinburgh Review. 

xlv 



GOLDSMITU AND IkVING. 



^vlio iiifike tliese appeals, ask to be indulfced— ask 
that tlie fertility of their genius or their wit, sliould 
(■oiiii>eiisate for tlie barrenness of tlieir ii'^>i;'y=^— 
usk that the light which leads astray, 6>hould be 
counted light from Heaven. . 

But no such indulgence did he crave, who, being 
dead now speaketh from his peacetul, woodland 
.ri-ive As I have said, his aim was to make 
miuikind happier and better, and only to write 
what was fitting and ennobling to be read. It 
lav within his power to invest the land of dreams 
Avitii shai)e and substance, to create scenes ot 
uncarthlv beauty, to collect and blend the charms 
of nature, to group the varying characters ot a 
people or an enx, to tell the pathetic story ot 
Iminan sorrow or remorse, or to sketch the tading 
iineainents of old times or traditions; but his 
i)en was always the obedient servant ot sound 
principles and pure religion, always made tiie 
soul pant for something higher, and never lett 
a mark which an angel might wish to blot. And 
when, at length, in his ripe old age, he sought to 
lav tiie cap-stone upon the pyramid ot his lal)or 
nnd his fame, he took the highest and purest 
character our earth atibrds— not merely to mag- 
nify or embellish it, but to hold it forth betore 
the whole world in its grand proportions and 
almost faultless beauty, anxious— anxious, that 
the latest impression of his pen should be the 
most exalted, and the most enduring. 

S\ich was the lesson of his life— such xcill be 
its lesson " to the last syllable of recorded time. 



pictures have that freshness about them which 
iH.thing but life-studies can give. He I'a^.wnt- 
ten no^ioem, no Trarellf.r, "no Deserted Village, 
no exquisite ballad like The Hermit, no touching 
little stanzas of unai)proachable pathos, like M om- 
an But how much real poetry and how mucli 
real pathos has he not written 1 We do not be- 
lieve that there was ever such a description ot 
the song of a bird, as his description ot the soar- 
ino-of a lark in BucMhorn ; and the poor old 
wrdow in the Sketch Book, who, the first Sunday 
after her son's burial, comes to church witli a 
few bits of black silk and ribbon about her, the 
only external emblem of mourning which her 
poverty allowed her to make, is a picture that 
we can never look at through his simple and 
<rraphic periods without sobbing like a child. 
Boet he is, and that too of the best and noblest 
kind, for he stores our memories with lovely 
imao-es and our hearts with human afiection.^. 
If you would learn to be kinder and truer, it you 
would learn to bear life's burden mantully, and 
make for yourself sunshine where halt your 
fellow-men see nothing but shadows and gloom 
read and meditate Goldsmith and Irving. And 
if you too are an author, at the tirst gentle ac- 
clivity or far upward on the heights ot tame, 
learn to turn backward to your teacher with 
the same generous and fervent gratitude with 
which Irving at the close of his i)retace addresses 
himself to Goldsmith in the noble language ot 
Dante : 



GOLDSMITH AND IRVING. «> 

BY GEORGK WASHINGTON' GREENE. 

We have always fancied that there was a 
strong resemblance between Goldsmith and 
Irving. They both look at human nature from 
the same generous point of view, with tlie same 
kindly svmpathies and the same tolerant philos- 
ophy. They have the same quick perception of 
the ludicrous, and the same tender simplicity in 
tlie pathetic. There is the same quiet vein ot 
liumor in both, and the same cheertul spirit ot 
hopefulness. You are at a loss to conceive how 
either of tiiem can ever have had an enemy ; and 
as for jealousy and malice, and all that brood ot 
evil passions which" beset the path of fame so 
thicklv, vou feel that there can be no^resting- 
idace for them in bosoms like theirs. Yet each 
i.reserves his individuality as distinctly as it 
there were no points of resemblance between 
tliem. Irvinsc's style is as much his o\yn as 
though Goldsmith' had never written, and his 



xlvi 



From a volume entitled Biographical Studies. 



Tu se' lo mio maestro, e '1 mio autore ; 
Tu se' solo colui dii cui i<> tolsi 
Lo bello stile che m' ha fatto onore. 

Thou art my master, and my teacher thou ; 

It was from thee, and thee alone, I toolv 

That noble style for which men honor me. 



IRVING DESCRIBED IN VERSE. 
[From the Fable for the Critics.] 
BY JAMES KtlSSELL LOWELL. 
What ! Irving ? thrice welcome, warm heart and fine 

brain; . . ^ o • 

You briuo- back the happiest spirit from Spain, 
And the gravest sweet humor, that ever were tliere 
Since Cervantes met death in his gentle despair. 
Nav don't be embarrass'd, nor look so beseectung,— 
1 shan't run directly a-ainst my "^n preachuig, 
And, having just laugh'd at their Raphaels and Dautes, 
Go to settincr you up beside matchless Cervantes , 
But allow me to speak what I honestly }^f^— 
To a true poet-heart add the t\\n of Dick [Steele, 
Throw in all of Addison, mm«.s the chill, 
With the whole of that partnership's stock and good- 
will, , ,1 
Mix well, and, while stirring, hum o'er, as a spell, 
The tine oil Ensflish Gentleman : simmer it well, 
Sweeten just to\onr own private likin-, then strain, 
That only the finest and clearest remain ; 



Mu. Willis' Visits. 



Let it stand out of doors till a sonl it receives 

From the warm, lazy sun loitering down through oreen 

leaves, ° 

And you'll tiud a choice nature, not wholly deserving 
A name either English or Yankee— just IiiviNO. 



VISITS TO SUNNYSIDE. 

BY N. P. WILLIS.* 

Sunny side in the Summer of 1857. 

Our conversation, for the half Iiour that we sat 
in that little library, turned iirst upon the habits 
of literary labor. Mr. Irvincr, in reply to my in- 
quiry (whether, like Rip Van Winlde, he had 
" arrived at that happy age when a man can be 
idle with impunity"), said, " no"— that he had 
sometimes worked even fourteen hours a day, but 
that he usually sits in his study, occupied, from 
breakfast till dinner (both of "us agreeing, that, 
in literary vegetation tlie "do" is on in the 
morning) ; and that he should be sorry to have 
much more leisure. He thougiit, indeed, that he 
should " die in harness." lie never had a head- 
ache — that is, his workshop never gave him any 
trouble— but among the changes which time has 
Avrought, one, he says, is very decided ; the de- 
sire for travel is dead within him. The days are 
l)ast when he could sleep or eat anywhere with 
equal pleasure ; and he goes to town as seldom 
as possible. 

Motley's Dutch EepitUic lay open on the 
table, and Irving said he had been employing a 
little vacation from his own labors in the reading 
of it. It had interested him exceedingly. '' How 
surprising" (he exclaimed, quite energetically), 
" that so young a man should jump at once, full- 
grown, to fame, with a big book, so well-studied 
and complete!" This turned the conversation 
upon the experiences of authorship, apd he said 
that he was always afraid to open the tirst copy 
that reached him, of a new book of his own. He 
sat and trembled , and remembered all the weak 
points where he liad been embarrassed and per- 
plexed, and where he felt he might have done 
better— hating to think of the book, indeed, until 
the reviewers had praised it. Indifference to 
praise or censure, he thought, was not reasonable 
or natural. At least, it was impossible to Am. 
He remembered how he had suffered from the 
opinion of a Philadelphia critic, who, in review- 
ing the Sketch Bool\ at its tirst appearance, said 
that "Rip Van Winkle" was a silly attempt at 
;. humor, quite uuwortiiy of the author's genius. 
' My mention of Rogers, tlie poet, and some other 
|riends of Mr. Irving's who had asked me about 

* Published iu The Home Journal. 



bun m England, opened a vein of his London 
recollections. He was never more astonished, 
he said, than at the success of the Slcetcli Book. 
Ills wilting of those stories was so unlike an in- 
spirati(m— so entirely without any feeling of con- 
tidence whicii could be prophetic of their popu- 
larity. Walking with his brother, one dull foygy 
Sunday, over Westminster Rridge, he got to tell- 
ing the old Dutch stories which he had heard at 
Tarrytown, in his youth— when the thought sud- 
denly struck him:— "I have it! I'll go home 
and make memoranda of these for a book!" 
And, leaving his brother to go to churcii, he 
went back to his lodgings and jotted down all 
the data; and, the next day— the dullest and 
darkest of London fogs— he sat in his little room 
and wrote out " Sleepy Hollow" by the light of 
a candle. 

I alluded to the story I had heard told at Lady 
Blessington's— of Irving going to sleep at a din- 
ner-party, and their taking him up softly and 
carrying him into another house, where he waked 
up amid a large evening-party— but he shook his 
head incredulously. It was Disraeli's story, ho 
said, and was told of a party at Lady Jersey's, 
to which he certainly went, after a dinner-party 
— but not with the dramatic nap at the table, nor 
the waking up in her Ladyship's drawing-room, 
as described. In tact, he remembered the party 
as such a "jam," that he did not get, that even- 
ing, beyond the tirst landing of the staircase. 

A Drive through Sleepy Holloio. 

We wound out from the smooth-gravelled and 
circling avenues of " Wolfert's-dell," and took to 
the rougher turnpike leading to Tarrytown — fol- 
lowing it, however, only for a mile" or so, and 
then turning abruptly o"ff to the right, at what 
seemed a neglected by-road to the hills. Of the 
irregular semicircle of Sleepy Hollow, this is the 
Sunnyside end — the other oi)ening towards Tarry- 
town, which lies three miles fartiier up the river. 

Our road, presently, grew very much like what 
in England is called "a green lane," the undis- 
turbed gra-ss growing to the very edge of the 
single wheel-track; and this lovely carpeting, 
which I observed all tiirougii Sleepy Hollow, is, 
you know, an unusual feature for our country — 
the " Spring- Avork" on the highways, ordinaVily 
(under the direction of tlie " pathraaster"), con- 
sisting mainly in ploughing up the roadsides and 
matthig up the ruts witli thea«s-Ass-inated green- 
sward. For the example of this charming ditfer- 
ence I am ready to ble^^s the bewitchment of tiio 
" high German doctor," or even to thank the 
ghost of the "old Indian chief who held his pow- 
wows there before the countiy was discovered." 

With what attention I could take off from Mr. 

xlvii 



A Ditn'E rjiitouGii ^lekpy IIoi.low, 



Irving's conversation and his busy poiutings-out 
of the localities and beauties or' ilie valley, I was, 
of course, on the look-out for the " Slee|>y-ll(jl- 
low Boys," along the road ; but oddly enough I 
did not see a living soul in the entire distance! 
For the "Headless Horseman," it was, doubt- 
less, too early in the afternoon. We had, neither 
of us, an}' expectation of being hont)red with an 
introduction to him. But 1 did hope for a look 
at a "Hans Van Ripper" or a "Katrina Van 
Tassel" — certainly, at the very least, for a speci- 
men or two of the young Mynheers, " in their 
square-skirted coats with stupendous brass but- 
tons," and tiieir "hair queued up in an eel-skin." 
Mr. Irving pointed out an old tumble-down farm- 
liouse, still occupied, lie said, by the Dutch family 
who traditionally "keep the keys to Sleepy Hol- 
low," but there was not a soul to be seen hang- 
ing over the gate, or stirring around porch or 
cow-yard. There were several other and newer 
houses, tliough still of the same model — (or, to 
quote e.xactly Mr. Irving's words, in reply to my 
remark upon it, "always built crouching low, 
and always overlooking a little fat meadow") — 
but they were equally without sign of living in- 
habitant. Yet read again what Mr. Irving says 
of the vegetating eteriuty of the inhabitants, in 
iiis own account of Sleepy Hollow, and see how 
reasonable were my disappointed expectations in 
this particular. 

One thing impressed me very strongly — the 
evidence there was, in Mr. Irving's manner, from 
our first entrance into Sleepy Hollow, that the 
ciiarm of the locality was to him no fiction. 
There was even a boyish eagerness in his delight 
at Uxiking ai'ound him, and naming, as we drove 
along, tiie localities and their associations. He 
did not seem to remember that he had written 
about it, but enjoyed it all asa scene of childhood 
then for the first time revisited. I shall never 
forget the sudden earnestness with which he 
leaned forward, as we passed close mider a side- 
hill heavily wooded, and exclaimed, " There are 
the trees where I sliot my first squirrels when a 
boy !" And, till the turn of the road put that 
hillside out of sight, he kept his eyes fixed, with 
absorbed earnestness upon it, evidently forgetful 
of all around him but tiie past rambles and boy- 
dreams which the scene had vividly recalled. 
You will understand, dear Morris, how this little 
point was wonderfully charming to me — being 
such a literal verification, as it were, of one of 
the passages of his description of the spot, and 
one of those, too, of which the music lingers long- 
est in the ear! " I recollect" (lie says) " that 
Avhen a stripling, my first exploit in squirrel-shoot- 
ing was in a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades 
one side of the valley. I had wandered into it at 
noon- time, wlien all Nature is peculiarly (piiet, 

xhiii 



and was startled by the roar of my own gun, as 
it broke the Sabl»ath stillness around, and was 
prolonged and reveriierated by the angry eclioes. 
\i ever I should Avish for ;i retreat whither I 
might steal from the world and its distr.-ictions, 
ami dream {[uietly away the remnant of a 
troubled lite, I know of none more promising 
than this little valley." And, to drive ihrougli 
"this little valley" with the man who had so 
written t)f it, ami have him point out " the tall 
walnut-trees" with such an outburst of boyish 
recollection — why, it was like entering with 
Tlu)msou, under the very portcullis of the " Cas- 
tle of Indolence !" 

I should mention, by the way, that we pulled 
up, for a moment, oi)posite tlie monument of 
Major Andre, a marble shaft standing at the side 
of the road and designating the spot (mentioned 
in "Sleepy Hollow") where that unfortunate man 
was captured. I could not read the whole in- 
scription in the single minute that cuir impatient 
horses stood before it, but the coucludiiig sen- 
tence, in larger letters, stood out boldly — "•His- 
tory telU the resV — and it was thrilling to read 
that reference to a more enduring record than 
marble, and turn one's eyes upon the hand by 
wliich the inq)erishable words had been just 
written! 

A Later Visit in 1859. 

During the ten minutes before Mr. Irving came 
in (for he was out iq)on his morning drive when 
we arrived), his nieces very kindly gratified our 
interest in the " workshop of genius" by taking 
us into the library — the little curtain-win<lowcd 
sanctuary where his mind had found both its 
labor and its repose, though, by the open news- 
l)apers scattered carelessly over the large writing- 
table in the centre, and the inviting readiness of 
the well-cushioned lounge in the recess, it now 
serves more the pinqiose of the I'epose more 
needed. It was a labyrinth of books: as it was 
a labyrinth of tender associations, in which, as 
the eye roved over its consecrated nooks and 
corners, the fancy, in all reverence, rambled 
lovingly! The tear at the heart kissed the 
thresiiold as we left it. 

I was looking admiringly, once more, at Jar- 
vis's record of him at the Sketch Book period of 
his life (the portrait with the fur collar, which 
all who have seen it will so well remembei'), 
when Mr. Irving came in from his drive. We 
had heard so much, recently, of his illness, that 
I was surprised to see with how livoly and firm 
a step he entered — removing the slouched hat (a 
comfortable de[)arture from the old-school cover- 
ing, which I had never expected to see on so 
l»roper a head !) with as easy elegance as ever, 



The Last IIecord, 



sitting flown with liis gray sliawl left carelessly 
ovei- liis shoulders, an.l entering upon kind in- 
quiries anil excliange of courtesies with wo hin- 
drance of debility that I coidd see. He is thinner 
somewhat, in both tbrui and features — owing to 
the asthma which interferes somewhat with his 
repose when lying dt)wn — but the genial expres- 
sion of his countenance is unchanged, and his eye 
as kindly and bright. As to sprightliness of 
attentit)n and reply, I could see little difference 
from the Wasiungton Irving of other days. The 
reports of his illness must liave been exaggerated, 
I thougiit. 

Conversation falling upon exercise, Mr. Irving 
remarked tliat he daily took his drive in the 
carriage — less from any desire to go abroad than 
from tinding, since he liad given up habits of 
labor, that time hung heavy on his hands. If he 
walks out, it is only in the grounds. We spoke 
of horseback-riding, and he gave us a most 
amusing account of his two last experiences in 
that way — a favorite horse called " Gentleman 
Dick" having thrown him over his head into a 
laurel bush, which kindly broke his fall; and 
another ver}' handsome nag, given him by his 
Ijrotiier, having proved to be opinionative as to 
choice of road — particularly at a certain bridge, 
which it was very necessary to pass, in every 
ride, but which the horse could not by any 
reasonable persuasion be got over. With the 
sending of this horse-dogmatist to town, to be 
sold to meaner service for his obstinacy, had 
ended the experiments in the saddle. 

Attributable, perhaps, to a rallying of his ani- 
mal spirits with cessation from work — I could 
not but wonder at the effortless play of "• Diedrick 
Knickerbocker" humor, which ran through all 
his conversation — Washington Irvijjg, in his best 
days, I am very sure, was never more socially 
" agreeable" than with us, for that brief visit. One 
little circumstance was mentioned in the course 
of this pleasant gossip. There was some passing 
discussion of the wearing of beards — his friend 
Mr. Kennedy have made that alteration in his 
physiognomy since they had met — and Mr. 
Irving closed a playful comment or two ni>on the 
habit, by saying that he could scarce afford the 
luxury himself, involving, as it would do, the loss 
of the most effectual quietus of his nerves. To 
get u]) and shave, when tired of lying awake, 
sure of going to sleep immediately after, had long 
been a habit of his. There was an amusing ex- 
change of sorrows, also, between him and Mr. 
Kennedy, as to persecution by autograph hunters; 
though the Ex-Secretary gave rather the stri)ngest 
instance — mentioning an unknown man who had 
written to him, when at the head of the Xavy 
Department, requesting, as one of his constituents, 
to be furnisiied with autogruiihs of all the Presi- 
7 



dents, of himself and the rest of the Cabinet, and 
of any other distinguished men with whom he 
might be in correspondence ! 

13ut there was a table calling for us, which was 
less agreeable than the one w^e were at — the 
'' time-table" of the railroad below — and our 
host's carriage was at the door. Mr. Kennedy 
was bound to the city, Avhere Mr. Irving, as he 
gave us his farewell upon the porch, said he 
thought he might find him, in a day or two, and 
Wise and I, by the up-train, were bound back to 
Idlewild. We were at home by seven, and over 
our venison supper (the "Allegliany haunch" still 
bountiful), we exchanged our remembrances of 
the day, and our felicitations at having been priv- 
ileged, thus delightfully, to see, in his home and 
in health, the still sovereign Story-King of the 
Hudson. May God bless him, and may the clouds 
about his loved and honored head grow still 
brighter with the nearer setting of his gnn. 

A Memoranda or tiro made after attending Mr. 
Irving^ Funeral. 

There were a few drops of rain in the Highlands 
as we left home to attend the funeral of Mr. Ir- 
ving. The air was breathlessly still, and the tem- 
perature soft and warm ; but the clouds in the 
west looked heavy, as if, by noon, it might gath- 
er to a thunder-storm. The neighbors to whom 
I spoke upon the way, antici[)ated it. But, as 
the train made its way down the river, the air 
brightened, and it was all clear, save a thin veil 
of mist which draped the valley of the Hudson 
with the silver}' veil common to a day of Indian 
summer. As I walked along the uplands of Tar- 
rytown, an hour befoi'e tiie funeral, listening to 
the tolling of the bells and icxdcing off upon the 
sunny landscape below, it seemed to me as if Na- 
ture was conscious of the day's event — present 
with hushed tread and countenance of sympathy 
and tenderness, but, not to mourn ! There was 
a glorious i)utting away of the morning clouds, 
and an opening upward of the far-reaching path 
of stmshine into mid-heaven, in harmony with 
what all felt, save perha|)S the hearts from whose 
daily life, thought, and fond care the beloved in- 
valid had been just torn— a noon, it seemed to 
me, that was tempered as if by the hands of min- 
istering angels — a lifting of the gloom of death 
for one whose departure should be cheerftil be- 
yond man's ordinary lot. To a pure life, nobly 
and beautifully completed, it was Death's inevi- 
table coming; but, ordered at the most timely 
hour, and announced with the gentleness of a 
welcome. 

The ferryman, as I crossed the river (forty 
miles above Sunnyside, and out of reach, of course, 
of the neighborhood's rumor of the day), had giv- 

xlix 



Mr. Tilton at Sunnyside. 



en me a toucliing proof of tlie singular universali- 
ty of tiie departed one's hold upon the popular 
heart. It was, of course, a man of tiie laboring 
class, hard-working, and, in his ordinary inter- 
course with those around hiin, little likely to hear 
a book mentioned — but he had read and loted 
Irving. "You are going down to the funeral, I 
suppose, sir?" he inquired, as I stepped on board. 
" Yes," I replied, " and we have a great loss in 
the death of such a man." "A loss, indeed ! and, 
as soon as I heard of it, I put tlie flag at half- 
mast, and we shall keep it there to-day," he said, 
as he turned thouglitfully away. IIow beautiful 
for Irving (I could not but think) to have died, 
not only with all the world's highest honors about 
his head, but to be mourned, also, at the deeper 
and more sacred level of the world's common 
lieart. 

It is probable, that, among the many descrip- 
tions of the funeral ceremony, tliere will be a 
mention — (possibly a portrait in one of the illus- 
ti-ated papers) — of a tall and ragged old man, 
with very marked physiognomy, who fell into 
tiie procession of the wealthy and gifted, ap- 
proaching tiie chancel to take a last look at the 
cold features in the coffin. My attention was 
called to him as lie unconsciou.sly crowded his 
ragged shoulder against our country's wealthiest 
man (Mr. Astor), with whose heart his own 
humbler heart had, for that moitient, a tear in 
coiiiiiion, I am sure. In unconscious forgetfulness 
of all around, he tottered down the north aisle — 
his rougli features full of emotion at what he had 
just gazed upon, and appearing, in his whole tig- 
ure and aspect, so like what has been portrayed 
to us in Irving's sketches of other days! He 
might easily have been a relic of the early settlers 
of the hills near by — a type, by fair inlieritance, 
of tlie ch.iracters who were the studies of " Died- 
rick Knickerbocker" — but it seemed a striking 
api)aritioa of the Past, so strangely conjured into 
tlie midst of that crowd of To-Day's gifted and 
distinguished ! 

Tiiere is little to add to the many touching de- 
scrijitions of the funeral, or to the interesting par- 
ticidars of the last days of Mr. Irving. They have 
been well and lovingly written upon, by many 
and able pens. As I stood in tiie church, before 
the .service, I heard, incidentally, from one of the 
neiglibors wlio was often at ISunnyside, tliat Mr. 
Irving liad been for some time aware of the un- 
certain tenure of his life — witli the disease at his 
lieart which lias now ended it so suddenly. He 
fully anticii)ated an instantaneous stoi)ping of the 
fluttering j)nlse, and was, therefore, careful never 
to be left alone — but he talked cheerfully of dy- 
ing. My companion home, alter the funeral 
(Mr. Griiinel), was one of our [)arty wlien liie be- 
loved author accompanied us on a visit to " Sleepy 



Hollow," two 3'ears ago — a privileged day which 
I described in the Home Journal, at the time — 
and he recalled to my mind the peculiar unliesi- 
tatingness with which Mr. Irving pointed out to 
us, as we drove past it in the carriage, the old 
church which was his family burying-ground. 
'■'■It is soon to he my resting -jjlace^"' he said, ex- 
pressing it in the tone of an habitual thought, and 
returning immediately to the lively conversation 
suggested by the historic scenery we were pass- 
ing through. And, to this place, he was borne 
and laid to rest, yesterday — " blessed of the 
Lord," we may well believe, in having been 
" found ready." 



HALF AN HOUR AT SUNNYSIDE.o 



A VISIT TO WASHINGTON IRVING. 
BY THEODORE TILTON. 

I HAD half an hour one day last week at Sun- 
nyside — the residence of Wasliington Irving, 
Such a half hour ought to have been one of the 
pleasantest in one's life ; and so it was ! The 
pleasure began before reaching the door-step, or 
taking the old man's hand — in the thousand as- 
sociations of the place — for a visit to Sunnyside 
is e(iual to a pilgrimage to Abbotsford. 

The quaint, grotesque old dwelling, with its 
old-fashioned gables, stood as solemn and sleepy 
among the trees as if it had been built to per- 
sonate old Rip Van Winkle at his nap. The 
grounds were covered with brown and yellow 
leaves, with here and there a red-squirrel run- 
ning and rustling among them, as if pretending 
to be the true red-breast that laid the leaves 
over the babes in tlie wood. 

The morning had been rainy, and the after- 
noon showed only a few momentary openings of 
clear sky; so that I saw Sunnyside without the 
sun. But under the heavy clouds there was 
something awe-inspiring in the sombre View of 
those grand hills with their many-colored forests, 
and of Ilendrik Hudson's ancient river still flow- 
ing at the feet of the ancient Palisades. 

The mansion of Sunnyside has been standing 
for twenty-three years ; but when first its sharp- 
angled roof wedged its way up among the 
brandies of the old woods, the region was far 
more a solitude than now ; for at tliat time our 
bu.sy author had secluded himself froin almost 
everybody but one near neighbor; while he has 
since unwittingly gathered around him a litde 
community of New York merchants, whose ele- 

* From the Independent, Nov. 24, 1S59. 



Habits of Composition. 



gaiit country-seats, opening into each other by 
mutual intertwining roads, form what looks like 
one vast and free estate, called on the time-tables 
of the railroad by the honorary name of Irving- 
ton. But even ■within the growing circle of his 
many neighbors, tiie genial old Knickerbocker 
still lives in true retirement, entertaining his 
guests within eciio distance of Sleepy Hollow — 
without thought, and almost without knowledge, 

" how the great world 

Is praising him far off." 

lie withdrew a year ago from all literary labor, 
and is now spending the close of his life in well- 
earned and long-needed repose. 

Mr. Irving is not so old-looking as one would 
expect who knew his age. I fancied him as in 
the winter of life ; I found him only in its Indian 
summer. He came down stairs, and walked 
through the hall into tlie back-parlor, with a 
firm and lively step that might well have made 
one doubt whether he had truly attained liis 
seventy-seventh year. lie was suttering from 
asthma, and was muffled against the damp air 
with a Scotch shawl, wrapped like a great loose 
scarf around his neck; but as he took his seat 
in the old arm-chair, and, despite his hoarseness 
and troubled chest, began an unexpectedly viva- 
cious conversation, he made me almost forget 
that I was the guest of an old man long past his 
" tlireescore years and ten." 

But what should one talk about who had only 
half an hour with Washington Irving? I ven- 
tured the question, 

" Now that you have laid aside your pen, 
which of your books do you look back upon 
with most i)leasure?" 

He immediately replied, " T scarcely look with 
full satistaction upon any ; for they do not seem 
what they might have been. I often wish that 
I could have twenty years more, to take them 
down from the shelf, one by one, and write 
them over." 

He spoke of his daily habits of writing, before 
he had made the resolution to write no more. 
His usual hours for literary work were from 
morning till noon. But, altliough he had gen- 
erally found his mind most vigorous in the early 
part of the day, he had always been subject to 
moods and caprices, and could never tell, when 
he took up the pen, liow many hours would pass 
before he would lay it diiwn. 

"But," said he, " these capricious periods, of 
the heat and glow of composition, have been the 
hap[)iest hours of my life. I have never found, 
in any thing outside of the four walls of my 
study, any enjoyment equal to sitting at my 
Avriting-desk with a clean page, a new theme, 
and a mind awake. 



His literary employments, he remarked, had 
always been more like entertainments than tasks. 

" Some writers," said he, " ap])ear to have 
been independent of moods. Sir "Walter Scott, 
for instance, had great power of writing, and 
could work almost at any time ; so could Crabbe 
— but with this difference: Scott always, and 
Crabbe seldom, wrote well. " I remember," said 
he, " taking breakfast one morning with Rogers, 
Mot)re, and Crabbe. The conversation turned on 
Lord 13yron's poetic moods: Crabbe said that, 
however it might be with Lord Byron, as for 
himself he could Avrite as well one time as at 
another. But," said Irving, with a twinkle of 
humor at recalling the incident, " Crabbe has 
written a great deal that nobody can read." 

He mentioned that while living in Paris he 
went a long period without being able to write. 
" I sat down repeatedly," said lie, " with pen and 
ink, but could invent nothing wortli ])utting on 
the paper. At length, I told my friend, Tom 
Moore, who dropped in one morning, that now, 
after long waiting, I had the mood, and would 
hold it, and work it out as long as it would last, 
until I had wrung my brain dry. So I began to 
write shortly after breakfast, and continued, 
witiiout noticing how the time was passing, un- 
til Moore came in again at four in the afternoon 
— when I had completely covered the table with 
freshly-written sljeets. I kept the mood almost 
without interruption for six weeks." 

I asked whicfi of his books was the result of 
this frenzy; he replied, " Bracehr'idge Hall.'''' 

" None of your works," I remarked, " are 
more charming than the Biography of Gold- 
smith.'''' 

" Yet that was written," said he, " even more 
rapid!}' than tlie other." He then added : 

" When I have been engaged on a continuous 
work^ I have often been obliged to rise in the 
middle of the night, light my lamp, and write an 
hour or two, to relieve my mind ; and now that 
I write no more, I am sometimes compelled to 
get up in the same way to read." 

Sometimes, also, as the last Idlewild letters 
mention, he gets up to shave. 

" When I Avas in Spain," he remarked, 
"searching the old chronicles, and engaged on 
the Life of Columbus., I often wrote fourteen or 
fifteen hours out of the twenty-four." 

He said that whenever he had forced his mind 
unwillingly to work, the product was worthless, 
and he invariably threw it away and began 
again ; " for," as he observed, " an essay or 
chapter that has been only hammered out is sel- 
dom good for any thing. An author's right time 
to work is when his mind is aglow ; when his 
imagination is kindled ; these are his i)reciou3 
moments: let him wait until they come, but 

li 



SUNNYSIDE. 



wlien they have come let him make the most of 
them." 

I referred to his last and greatest Avork, tlie 
Ufe of Washington^ and asked if he felt, on fin- 
ishing it, any such sensation as Gibbon is said to 
liave experienced over the last sheet of the De- 
cline and Fall. He replied that the wliole work 
liad engrossed his mind to sucli a degree tliat, 
before he was aware, lie had written himself into 
feel)leness of health ; that he feared in the midst 
of liis labor tliat it would break liim down before 
he could end it; tiiat when at last the final 
pages were written, he gave the manuscript to 
his nephew to be condncted tiirough the press, 
and threw himself back upon his red cushioned 
lounge Avith an indescribable feeling of relief. 
He added, tliat the great fatigue of mind tlirough- 
out the whole task had resulted from the care 
and pains required in tlie construction and 
arrangement of materials, and not in the 
mere literary composition of the successive 
chapters. 

But what magnificent volumes ! What a work 
for an old man to have achieved ! What a fit- 
ting close to the labors of a long and busy life! 
They unite on one page, and will perpetuate in 
one memory, not only a great name, but its 
great namesake : the Fatlier of the American 
Republic, and tlie Father of the American Re- 
public of Letters. 

On the parlor wall hung the engraving of Faed's 
picture of "Scott and his Contemporaries." I 
alluiled to it as presenting a group of his for- 
mer friends. 

"■ Yes," said he, " I knew every man of them 
hut three: and now they are all gone." 

"Are the portraits good?" I inquired. 

" Scott's head," lie replied, " is well drawn, 
though the expression lacks something of Scott's 
force ; Campbell's is tolerable; Lockhart's is the 
worst. Lockhart," said he, " was a man of very 
delicate organization, but he had a more manly 
look than in the picture." 

"You should write one more book," I hinted. 

"What is that?" 

"Your reminiscences of those literary friends." 

"Ah," he exclaimed, "it is too late now! I 
shall never take the pen again ; I have so en- 
tirely given up writing, that even my best 
friends' letters lie unanswered. I must have 
rest. No more books now !" 

He referred to the visit, a week before, from 
Mr. Willis, whose letter he had just been read- 
ing in the Home Journal. 

" I am most glad," said he, " that Mr. Willis 
remembered my nieces ; they are my house- 
keepers and nurses ; they take such good care 
of ine that really I am the most fortunate old 
bachelor in the world! Yes," he repeated with 

lii 



a merry emphasis, " the most fortunate old 
bachelor in all the world !" 

It was delightful to witness the animation of 
his manner, and the heartiness of his gratitude, 
as he continued to relate how they supplied all 
his wants — gave him his medicines at the right 
time, without troubling him to look at the clock 
for liimself — called him down to breakfast — 
cloaked and shawled him for his morning ride — 
brought him his hat for his fine-weather walks 
— and in every possible way humored him in 
every possible whim. 

"I call them sometimes my nieces," he said, 
"but oftener my daughters!" 

As I rose to go, he brouglit from a corner of 
the room a photograph of a little girl, exhibit- 
ing it with great enthusiasm. It was a gitt from 
a little child who had come to see him every 
day during his sickness. The picture Avas ac- 
companied Avith a note, printed in large letters, 
with a lead pencil, by the little correspondent, 
who said she was too young to Avrite! He spoke 
with great vivacity of his childish visitor. 
'"Children," said the old man, "are great pets : 
I am very fond of the little creatures." 

The author's study — into which I looked for a 
few moments before leaving — is a small room, 
almost entirely filled by the great Avriting-table 
and the lounge behind it. The Avails are laden 
with books and pictures, Avhich evidently are 
rearranged every day by some delicate hand ; 
for none of the books Avere tumbled into a cor- 
ner, and no papers Avere lying loose upon the 
table. The pen, too, was laid precisely parallel 
to the edge of the inkstand — a nicety Avhich 
only a A\'oman]y housekeeper Avould perscA'ere 
to maintain! Besides, there was not a speck of 
dust upon carpet or cushion ! 

I stood reverently in the little room — as if it 
Avere a sacred place ! Its associations filled my 
mind with as much deliglit as if I had been 
breathing fragrance from hidden floAvers. On 
leaving, I carried the picture of it vividly in my 
mind, and still carry it; — the quiet, sechided, 
poetic haunt in Avhich a great author AvTote his 
greatest Avorks ! 

As I came away, the old gentleman bundled 
his shawl about him, and stood a few moments 
on the steps. A momentary burst of sunshine 
fell on him through the breaking clouds. In 
that full light he looked still less like an old 
man than in the dark parlor by the shaded 
Avindow. His form Avas slightly bent, but the 
quiet humor of the early portraits Avas still lin- 
gering in his face. He Avas the same genial, 
generous, merry-eyed man at seventy-seven as 
Jarvis had painted him nearly fifty yeai-s before. 
I wish always to remember him as I saw him at 
that last moment ! 



!Mk. Tiffaxt's ReMDsISCEXCES. 



A DAY AT SUNNYSIDE.- 

BY OSMOND TIFFANY. 

I MET Mr. Irving only once, but llien it was 
by his own fireside, with no other visitor to 
sliare my enjoyment. It was in the summer of 
1853, when I had left Bahimore for the liot sea- 
son, and was passing my time at AVIiite PUiins, 
eight miles from Sunnyside. The Hon. John P. 
.Kennedy, an intimate friend of Irving's, had 
given me a letter to him, and on a lovely August 
day I drove «)ver to his house. ***** 
Mr. Irving was suffering a little that day with 
lieadache, and feeling unwilling to detain him, 
after a pleasant call of half an liour, I rose to 
depart. He, liowever, would not permit me to 
do -SO, saying that I had come from a distance, 
and must stay to dinner. He then added that 
he wished a little i"est, but that if I could amuse 
myself with a book, or strolling about the 
grounds, he would leave me to myself for an 
hour or so. Xothing more delightful than to 
tread the lawn at Sunnyside. It overhung the 
river, the railroad passing directly under the 
bank from which I looked across the Tajipau 
sea. It was the day of the inauguration of the 
Crystal Palace, and all the world in heat and 
dust had gone to look at President Pierce, while 
I was alone with Washington Irving. Miles 
away, across the water, lay Tappan, where Andre 
bravely met his melanciioly doom. Above and 
below stretched an enchanting prospect, ever 
enlivened by the white-winged craft scudding 
before or beating in the wind. Nature and art 
were charmingly blended in the grounds, fine 
deciduous trees and evergreens contrasted foli- 
age, while winding paths led into shady dells 
and arbors, or to rustic bridges which spanned a 
brooklet running riverward. The whole sweet 
scene was in unison with the genial spirit of its 
possessor. 

On returning to the house near four o'clock, 
Mr. Irving met me again in the parlor. This 
Avas a large and handsomeh' furnished room, 
decorated with paintings and engravings, several 
of them scenes from the author's own writings, 
which had been given to him, while the book- 
table displayed choice presentation copies of 
works from literary friends. I was attracted by 
a collection of WiJkie's engraved works, and 
particularly struck by one of its subjects ; a 
young monk on his knees confessing to an old 
one. Mr. Irving said tliat he himself was with 
Wilkie, when he made the sketcli of this picture. 
They were travelling together in Spain, and one 
day, in passing through the aisles of one of its 
old cathedrals, they peeped into a confessional 

* From the Sprhiqfield Repiiblican. 



and beheld a venerable bearded ecclesiastic, 
listening to the fervent confession of sin from a 
young devotee. Wilkie instantly stopped and 
sketched this striking scene, elaborating it ou 
his return to England. 

Dinner being now announced, we were joined 
by a brother of Mr. Irving, who with his three 
daughters reside at Sunnyside. In introducing 
me to his nieces, he playfully spoke of them as 
liis adopted daughters, for want of any of his 
own. He had now entirely recovered from liis 
headache, and was in the most lively and agree- 
able mood. I had heard that in general society 
he was often silent, and I knew that on public 
occasions he could not jjossibly speak, but now 
notliing could be more delightful than the How 
'of his conversation. I found that tlie best way 
to draw him out, Avas to let him talk on at Aviil, 
now and then making some slight suggestion 
wliich Avould open a new subject. In tliis man- 
ner he touched upon his travels in Spain, and 
recalled the palmy days of the Alhanibra, and it 
was like reading one of his fine romances, to 
hear him speak of bygone scenes in Granada, 
Madrid, and Seville. He had many anecdotes 
of the celebrated actors and singers of his time, 
for he was fond of music, and thoroughly appre- 
ciated liigh dramatic art. I mentioned the 
"Little Ked Horse Inn," which he has made 
immortal by his sketch of Stratford-on-Avon, 
and told him, that as soon as I visited it, the 
landlord on finding I Avas an American brought 
in a copy of his works, and said he Avas proud 
always to meet the author's countrymen. Mr. 
Irving added, that on his first return to Stratford, 
after tlie publication of the Sketch Bool; he was 
in company with Mr. Van Buren. and tliat they 
Avere greatly amused by the landlady rushing in, 
holding up the poker with Avliich he stirred the 
fire, and saying, "Sir, you see I've got your 
sceptre safe." 

Nothing could be more modest than the way 
in Avhicii Mr. Irving spoke of himself or of his 
Avorks, never naming them, unless they Avere 
alluded to. Indeed his whole manner was in 
striking contrast to the flippancy of some shal- 
low literary men, and to the "smile superior,*' 
the self-complacency, and consummate impu- 
dence of some of the "curled darlings"' of the 
lecture-room, Avho annually visit the rural dis- 
tricts to instruct us about '■'■society," and tell 
liow New York snobocracy ties its cravats and. 
flirts its fans in Madison Square. Here was a, 
man Avho for half a century had moved in the 
very highest circles of Avealth, style, and intellect, 
caressed on every hand, yet whom panegyric 
and flattery could not spoil, and Avho had pre- 
served unspotted his true nobihty of nature. A 
modest hero of letters, a perfect gentleman in 

liii 



An Irving Anecdote. 



one felt in his presence tlie 



soul as in manner 
ii)tliit-nce of — 

"A mind that all the muses deckM 

With gil'tii of grace, which might express 
All comprehensive tenderness 
All subtilizing intellect. 

" Heart affluence in discursive talk 

From household fountains never dry, 
The critic clearness of an eye 
Which saw through all the muses' walk." 



ANECDOTE OF WASHINGTON IRVING. « 

We dined at General Webb'.s, at his charming 
'' Pokahoe," in honor of Dr. Wainwright, lately 
cho.sen to be Provisional Bishop of New York. 

The company consisted of Bishop Doane, Dr. 
AVainwright, Dr. Creighton, Dr. Vinton, and Mr. 
Soiitiiard, of the clergy; with Mr. Charles King 
and Mr. Washington Irving. These guests, en- 
livened by tiie Iia[)py occasion of their gathering, 
enjoyed the day prodigiously. Mr. Irving was 
silent for a long time ; yet he seemed interested in 
the conversation, till, gradually, liis eye liglited, 
and his face beamed, and he ventured to drop a 
word, here and there, sometimes spontaneously in 
repartee, but chiefly in monosyllabic response. 

The company evidently respected liis accustom- 
ed taciturnity with strangers, especially as our 
host had hinted to us that Mr. Irving reluctantly 
allowed himself to be drawn from his seclusion to 
participate in' a " Clerical dinner-party." Dimier- 
l)artie3 he abhorred ; and clerical dinner-parties 
he conceived to be the most dull, precise, and 
formal of social ceremonies. 

To Mr. Charles King we wei-e indebted for 
bringing Mr. Irving out and keeping him awake, 
and cheating him of his accustomed nap. He 
addressed Mr. Irving as Major, recounting the 
scenes of his young manhood when he was aid- 
de-camp to Gov. Tompkins in the "last war." 
Mr. Irving enjoyed the reminiscence to such a 
degree that his reserve was entirely dissipated, 
and he volunteered an anecdote of his military 
service on Fort Greene, and of the mishap of the 
Governor in being ujiset from his horse into the 
ditch of the Fort, which he told with inimitable 
hmnor, and with a relish characteristic of Died- 
rick Knickerbocker. 

Tlie ice was fairly broken. The connection of 
Mr. Irving and tlie soldier was itself a ludicrous 
juxtaposition, and he himself made the most fun 
of it. 

Our host first playfull}', and then seriously, en- 
deavored to i)ersuade liim to apply for his " land- 
warrant," to which his services entitled him, by 

* From the Coiirier and Enquirer, Dec. 14, 1859. 



act of Congress. We severally promised to do the 
writing, if he would sign the application. And 
we urged tlie worth of the land-warrant as a 
memento which would be so valuable one of 
these days, as to be sought for at a price which 
would feed the poor, or provide a chancel window, 
or even (said one) to build a new church for 
Tarry town. 

Mr. Irving was greatly amused by the persua- 
sions of the company, parrying the arguments, 
one after another, with sly skill and evident 
deliglit. 

He hit the clergy wi'th a gentle sarcasm at their 
disinterestedness, and intimated that their zeal 
for a new church or a chancel window was hav- 
ing " a single eye for the public good." And he 
bantered Mr. King and our host upon the affec- 
tation of military esprit de corps. AVhen the 
time came for parting, Mr. Irving invited us to 
call upon him at "Sunnyside," and whispered to 
our host, " When you have another clerical 
dinner-party, count me in." 

The next day we called on Mr. Irving at Sunny- 
side. It was the day of Mr. Webster's funeral at 
Marshfield. It was one of the glorious days of 
October, when the mists of Tappaan Zee flung a 
veil over the charms of the Rockland Hills, ob- 
scuring the landscape of the Highlands in that 
half-light which Doughty knew so well how to 
paint. The sun was warm and genial and the air 
l)almy, insonauch that we adjourned from the 
parlor to the porch. Tiie conversation tui'ned 
upon Mr. Webster, — his life, his labors, his suc- 
cesses, his disappointments, his death, and the loss 
to his mourning country. Thence, it changed to 
Mr. Webster's compeers and the era of tiie Re- 
public when they lived, and to a comparison with 
the preceding epochs, and thence to prognostica- 
tions and politics in general. 

Just then, my eye was attracted to an apple- 
tree loaded with a precious freight of bright red 
apples, to which I quietly walked, nnperceived, 
as I supposed. 1 picked an ap])le from the 
ground : it was very good. I tried anotlier : it 
was somewhat decayed. I then threw some of 
them at the sound bright red apples on the tree. 
While thus busied, I heard a tenor voice cry- 
ing out: "An old man once saw a rude boy 
stealing apples, and he ordered him to come 
down." 

Looking round, I saw Mr. Irving coming to- 
wards me, to whom I rei>lied : "But the young 
saucebox told him decidedly that he would not." 
Mr. Irving rejoined : " Then the old man pelt- 
ed him with grass." 

I replied, "At which the saucebox laughed r 
whereupon the old man began to pelt him, say- 
ing, 'I will see what virtue there is in stones.' " 
" Ah ! you've read it, you've read it," exclaim- 



Mk. Curtis' Tkibute. 



ed Mr. Irving, clapping his liands in great glee, 
and fairly running, in a dog-trot, to my side. 

" I IiDpe my guests will excuse me," he said ; 
'' but I could not retrain from coming to you." 

'' Yet they were conversing on very grave and 
interesting topics," said I ; "and I wonder you 
could break away so easily to detect a young 
saucebox stealing your apples." 

" Well I nmst tell you how it happened," he 
replied. " To be sni-e the topics are grave and 
patriotic, and all that, yet when I saw you eating 
my apiiles from tliis grand old tree, and trying to 
knock some down with tlie rotten apples spread 
about here, it brought to my mind a circumstance 
which happened to me, on this very spot, some 
fifteen years ago. I had lately come from Spain, 
and was building yonder nondescript cottage, 
half Moorish and half English — an olla podrida 
sort of thing — about which I was excessively in- 
terested, considering my work as patriotic and as 
grave a matter as the conversation down there. 

" I was watching the workmen, directing this 
one and that one, lest the idea of my fancy might 
not be realized, when, in turning, my eye caught 
this api)le-tree, loaded witli its fruit (just as your 
eye did). It was a day like this, one of our 
October days — our Highland October days — such 
as one lights upon nowiiere else in the world. 
And this apple-tree bore that year as it does not 
bear every year, yet just like tliis. Well, I left 
my workmen and my talk (just as you did), and 
ate one of these windfalls (just as you did), and 
liked it (just as you did), and then I tried to 
knock some down (just as you did). Now, while 
I was enjoying these tine a[)ples (it was for the 
first time). "Just as I am now," I interposed. 
" Yes, yes," he continued. "A little nrcliin — 
sucii as infest houses in building — a ragged little 
urchin, out at the knees and out at the elbows — 
came up to me and said, sotto voce, 'Mister, do 
you love apples?' 'Ay, that I do,' said I. 'Well, 
come witii me, and I'll sliow you where are some 
better than them are.' 'Ah,' said I, ' wiiere are 
they?" 'Just over the hill, there,' said he. 
' Well, show me,' said I. 'Come along,' said the 
little thief, '■but dan' t let the old man see ms.' &'o 
I tcent icith him and stole my own ajyples. 

" Thus, you see how it happened that I could 
not stay with the politicians." And, as he said 
this, his whole frame sliook with fun; and his 
face threw otf the wrinkles of seventy years. 
Geoifrey Crayon stood before me. 



WASHINGTON IRVING.« 

BY GKOKGK WILLIAM 0CRTI3. 

The news of Irving's death did not surprise 
those who knew how gradually but surely he 
had been failing tbr several months ; and yet the 
death of any one we love, however long exi>ect- 
ed, is sudden at last — and he was the one man 
whom the whole country loved. Men of greater 
genius, of more persuasive and brilliant power, 
more peculiarly identified than he with charac- 
teristic American development, there are and 
have been, but no character since Waslnngton 
so symmetrical, and no career more rounded and 
complete. 

With Irving, the man and the autlior were 
one. The same twinkling humor, untouched by 
personal venom; the same sweetness, geniality, 
and grace; the same transparency and cliildlike 
simplicity, which endeared the writer to his read- 
ers, endeared the man to his friends. Gifted 
with a happy temperament, with that cheerful 
balance of thought and feeling which begets the 
sympathy which prevents bitter animosity, he 
lived through the sharpest struggles of our poli- 
tics, not witliout interest, but without bitterness, 
and with the tenderest resi)ect of every party. 

His tastes, and talents, and liabits were all 
those of the literary man. In earlier life, Secre- 
tary to the Legation in London, and afterwards 
Minister to S[)ain, he used the opportunities of 
liis position not for personal advancement, nor 
for any political object whatever, bat for pure 
literary advantage. And it was given to liini, 
first of our authors, to invest the American land- 
scape witii the charm of imagination and tra- 
dition. Curiously enough, he did not evoke 
this spell from the grave chronicles of religious 
zeal in New England, whose gloomy romance 
Hawthorne has wielded with power so weird, 
nor from tiie gay cavalier society of Virginia, 
but from tl)e element of our national settlement 
which seemed the least promising of all — the 
Dutch. 

So great is the power and so exquisite the 
skill with which this was done, that his genius 
has colored history. We all see the Dutch as 
Irving painted tiiem. When we speak of our 
dougiity Governor Stuyvesant, whom we all 
know, we mean not the Governor of the histo- 
ries, l>ut of Diedrick Knickerbocker. And so 
tiie entire Hudson river, from CommunipaAv, 
upon the Jersey shore of the Bay, along the 
Highlands and beyond the Catskill, owes its 
characteristic romance to the touch of the same 
imagination. 

* A copyrigtit article, reprinted, by the courtesy of the pub- 
Ifchers, from ffarper^s Weekly, Dec. 17, 1859. 

Iv 



Ikvixg Traits. 



That this power should have been no less in 
the treatment of Spanish legend, shows its genu- 
ine quality as high, poetic imagination. That 
the same man should have written the Knicker- 
bocker History, Rip Van Winkle, and Ichabod 
Orane, and then the Chronicles of tlie Alhambra, 
and the Legends of Granada, sliows only that if 
his power were versatile, it was versatile not 
because it was talent, but genius. 

And to this various excellence in seizing the 
essential romance of the Dutch and Spanish ge- 
nius, we must add that lie was not less fortunate 
in the English. The Sketch Booh and Brace- 
hrkige Hall are the most exquisite prctures of 
characteristic English life in literature. What 
they delineate is constantly hinted in English 
works, but nowhere else is it so atfectionately 
and fully elaborated. It is the poetic side of that 
burly dogmatist, John Bull, which is the secret 
charm of these books. They are full of a breezy 
heartiness, an unsophisticated honesty, a cordial 
reverence for traditions in themselves interesting, 
the flower and beauty of conservatism. There 
are hints and implications of it all through the 
Spectator and Tattler^ and the early essayists ; 
in Goldsmith, too; but nowhere among English 
authors until long after Irving's works, and then 
in the Christmas chapters oi' Picktcick, and gen- 
erally in tlie Holiday tales of Dickens. 

Is it too fanciful to And this susceptibility of 
genius to national individuality in Irving's histo- 
ries? to suppose that it is evident in the method 
and atmosphere of the Columbus, as contrasted 
with that of the Washington ? 

It is fair to lay the more stress upon tins, be- 
cause Irving's genius suffers in public estimation 
as Washington's does, from its very symmetry. 
Disproportion gives an impression of strength, 
but an Egyptian temple was no more enduring 
than a Grecian, although the Egyptian arcliitec- 
ture looks as if rooted in the earth, and the 
Grecian as if ready to float off into the blue sky. 
So in any direction, the ardent, i)assionate tem- 
perament seems to be more pronounced than the 
balanced and serene. 

How Irving had grown into the public heart 
and life! It was like the love of England for 
Walter Scott. The word Knickerbocker, or his 
own name, had scarcely less vogue than the 
word Waverley. It greets us everywhere, and 
is not the fashion of a day, but the liabit of love 
and reverence. And so, foretasting that immor- 
tality of affection in wliich his memory is and 
will be cherished, his many and various tasks 
fulfilled, his last great work done, ripe with 
years and honor, and entirely unspoiled by the 
world which he loved, and which loved him, the 
good old man died as quietly as he had lived, 
ceased without i)ain or struggle from the world 

Ivi 



in wliieh he had never caused the one nor suf- 
fered from the other. 

And when his death was known, there was no 
class of men wlio more sincerely deplored him 
than those of his own vocation. The older au- 
thors felt that a friend, not a rival — the younger 
that a father, had gone. There is not a young 
literar}' aspirant in the country who, if he ever 
personallj' met Irving, did not hear from hiin the 
kindest words of sympathy, regard, and encour- 
agement. There is none of the older rank who, 
knowing him, did not love him. He belonged 
to no clique, no party- in his own profession more 
than in any other of the great interests of life; 
and that not by any wilful independence, or neu- 
trality armed against all comers, but by the natu- 
ral catholicit}^ of his nature. 

On the day of his burial, unable to reach Tar- 
rytown in time for the funeral, I came down the 
shore of the river he loved. As we darted and 
wound along, the Catskills were draped in sober 
gray mist, not hiding them, but wreathing, and 
folding, and lingering, as if the hills were liung 
with sympathetic, but not unrelieved gloom. 
Yet far away towards the south, the bank on 
which his home la}*, was Sunnyside still, for the 
sky was cloudless and soft with serene sunshine. 
I could not but remember his last words to me 
more than a year ago, when his book was fin- 
ished and his health was failing, " I am getting 
ready to go ; I am shutting up my doors and 
windows." And I could not but feel that they 
were all open now, and bright with the .light of 
eternal morning. 



WASHINGTON IRVING.* 

BY FKEDEEICK S. COZZENS. 

" Wasuington Irving is dead !" 

The word passed in whis})ers through the 
train, as it rolled noisily along the banks of his 
beloved river — beside the very trees that fringed 
Sunnyside. 

And within that hallowed ground, Earth's 
Greatest Favorite lay silent. 

Who can mourn for him? Not one! We may 
mourn for ourselves, — for what we have lost ia 
him ; it was fitting that his life should have 
such a close; that his gentle spirit was not taxed 
with pain, nor did dissolution advance with lin- 
gering pace. But when the labor of his life was 
accomplished, and he rested. Death, gently as a 
child, drew aside his curtains of repose, saluted 

* Reprintpil, by the courteous permission of Mr. Bonner, 
from The New York Ledijer, Dec. 17, 1859. 



Mr. Cozzens' Sketch. 



liim with a kiss, and said, Awake, for it is morn- 
ing! 

1 count it one of the greatest privileges to 
have known Mr. Irving personally. Not from 
that idle vanity which too often leads the hum- 
bler writer to claim ac<piaintance with the most 
renowned in the field of letters; nor from any 
desire to rei)eat his private conversations in the 
public ear; nor yet together serviceable hints 
that might be useful hereafter ; nor yet to task 
his courtesy with tiiat delicate appeal to his crit- 
icism which, under the disguise of advice, cov- 
ets the latent compliment; but simply because 
Jiis genial and benevolent nature was such that 
it inspired the tenderest and the truest emotions. 
It is not easy to express what I mean, but those 
who knew him best will understand me. 

If to convey the peculiar grace that his pres- 
ence inspired, be beyond t!ie power of descrip- 
tion, yet its influence upon others is less difficult 
to represent. In his household, affection seemed 
to prevade the very atmosphere. The kindliest, 
the tenderest language, to each and to all ; the 
joyous welcome that awaited a distant relative 
visiting Sunnyside; the quiet, but constant care 
manifested for stranger guests ; the ha[)py, tran- 
quil face of an elder brother; the cheerful, 
"pleased alacrity," of the servants ; all seemed 
the very reflex of such a man : — so good, so true, 
so modest, so eminent. 

" It seems," said a lady after a visit to Wash- 
ington Irving's family, "as though I had been in 
heaven for a little wliile." 

I do not misdoubt much that a letter from 
Washington Irving is tlie treasured possession of 
almost every decent Avriter, known or unknown, 
in America. I have seen many such ; not ad- 
dressed always to the author personally, but 
written sidewise, recommending him to editors 
of magazines, or to publishers; and sometimes, 
a right out and out note of brief encourage- 
ment ; — bidding the youthful aspirant God 
speed! and saying sucli words, as a true man 
could say, in e'^ch a matter. And let any, 
whether " despondency weigh down their flut- 
tering pinions," or heartless adulation terrify 
them, take up their Irving letter! Up or down, 
it will bring them to the true level ; if as right- 
fully read, as rightfully written. 

We cannot tliink him dead, whose words, 
whose tones, and accents yet linger in the ears of 
the living. 

But when these recollections fade and with- 
er; when, link by link, the associates of his life- 
time separate from life, yet will his enduring 
memory survive. What he will be, requires 
neither the voice of i)rophet or commentator to 
tell ; what he was, is this— Xot one man of all 
human kind so beloved as he. 
8 



It is a very common belief tliat what is easily 
read, -was as easily written. But the profonnd- 
est research of the student fails to explain sim- 
plicity of style. It is not difficult to emi)loy 
technical phrases, or to press into the service the 
unusual diction current with transcendentalists ; 
but that language by which heart speaks to 
heart, tlie touch of nature which makes the 
whole world kin, lies beyond tlie cunning of the 
most acute analyst. This is the art tliat will 
survive the test of translation. iSTeed I repeat, 
what has been so often said — " the name of 
Irving is an honored household word in Spain, 
rivalled only by that of her own Cervantes." 

How many proofs of such recognition mi<i;ht 
be recalled ! " When I travelled through Spain," 
said a dear friend, " the best jiassport 1 had was 
that I was a countryman of Washington Irving. 
When I went to Granada, old Mate'o, ' Son of 
the Alhambra,' ceased dancing tiie bolero with 
his newly-married fourth wife, that he might 
talk with me of his honored patron." And with 
equal affection did the master of Wolfert's Roost 
draw forth that yellow silk scarf, knitted by the 
fingers of his faithful servitor, and relate with 
grateful, kindling modesty, that his old friend in 
Granada had not forgotten him. " He thinks," 
saidlrving, "that gastric com[)laints are danger- 
ous in this climate ; and so he warns me not to 
exjxjse mj-self to the air without this protector !" 
Whereupon he wound the yellow scarf around 
his \yaist, not without a cogent twinkle of humor 
in his eye, but with a loving remembrance be- 
hind all that. 

So, too, we may recall that reminiscence of 
Lord Byron, stumping through the hall of his 
Italian palace, to meet his American guests, and 
with the first salutation saying, "I have just 
read Bracehridge Hall ; has your countryman, 
Washington Irving, written any thing sinc'e? for 
whatever he writes I have a great desire to 
read." And in travelling through England, late- 
ly', when my slouched hat betrayed that I was 
an American citizen, twice in a day's journey 
was that beloved name the subject of conversa- 
tion. It was from the inquiry of strangers that 
I felt I was his countryman. 1 do not know 
whether or not I felt '])>"<>ii<ler because Irving 
was an American, or whether or not I did not 
feel prouder niyself, as an American, because of 
him. 

The ingenuous modesty which, in so eminent 
a degree, was his i)eculiar attribute, added a 
charm to every action of his life. The lionors 
which public men so earnestly covet, he appear- 
ed to avoid ; fulfilling the duties of his profes- 
sion, and shrinking from tlie applause so faith- 
fully and so honestly earned. It w.'is not unusual 
for him to coincide with the most diverse and 

Ivii 



Anecdotes. 



injurious criticisms. In one of his pleasantest 
Sunnyside letters he speaks of "that self-criti- 
cism which is apt to beset nie and cutf me down 
at the end of a work, when the excitement of 
composition is over." Thus, Avith a kind word 
of encouragement for every one, he was " forget- 
ful only of himself." When his faithful physi- 
cian and friend, Dr. Peters, told him, tifteen 
months since, that he had a subtle disease that 
might be fatal at any moment — an enlargement 
of the heart — his only reply was, " Do not tell it 
to the family." 

If, while speaking reverently of Irving, I allude 
to tliat gentle play of humor which illuminated 
his conversation, I do so with a full sense of the 
impropriety of introducing so subtle an element 
in obituary. But when we speak of Irving, 
when we recall him, as he lived, and moved, and 
spoke, surely this must not be forgotten. Other 
men — famous, wise, but not so great as he, had 
learned the trick of dignity, and knew its value ; 
but a kind word, a felicitous expression, that 
seemed to couple a smile and a tear, that smooth- 
ed the asperities of life, and awakened all its 
gentlest amenities, from Washington Irving was 
like a sunbeam ! It broke forth amid the clouds, 
and its mellow effulgence lightened the path of 
the listener for that, and for many a day. 

And when the volume of his life was closed, 
so did grace and peace follow his footsteps. 
Bidding farewell to those for whom he had 
lived, he retired to rest! 

And the simple record of the end of a life so 
renowned, is sweet as the record of the life it- 
self. Placing one hand upon his heart, and the 
other upon the book-table that had been so long 
his midnight companion, he sank down upon his 
knees, and Avith tlie arms of affection supporting 
his lionored head, saw the lirst dawn of a celes- 
tial morning. 

Not in the cheerless winter, but in the Indian 
summer of his renown. 

Is it well, is it well with thee, beloved master? 
Not with mourning and funereal symbols; not 
with the pomp of public obsequies ; not with the 
heartless array of alien magnificence ; but deck- 
ed with flowers, wreathed with laurel garlands, 
followed by those who knew him best and loved 
him most, the hearse bore the beloved remains 
of Washington Irving towards that valley which, 
to the end of time, will remain consecrated by 
his genius. 

Chestnut Cottage, Dec. 2, 1859. 



Iviii 



TABLE TALK. 

From a sketch, "A Day with Washington Irving."* 

BY JAMES GKANT WILSON. 

As we sat at his board in the dining-room, 
from which is seen the majestic Hudson Avith its 
myriad of sailing-vessels and steamers, and heard 
him dilate upon the bygone days and the giants 
that were in the earth then — of his friends, Scott 
and Byron, of Moore. and Lockhart, of Professor 
Wilson and the Ettrick Shepherd, and as the old 
man pledged the health of his kinsfolk and guest, 
it seemed as if a realm of romance were sud- 
denly opened before us. He told us of his first 
meeting with Sir Walter Scott, so graphiciilly 
described in his charming essay on Abbotsford; 
and his last, in London, when the great Scotch- 
man was on his way to the Continent with the 
vain hope of restoring his health, broken down 
by his gigantic efforts to leave an untarnished 
name, and a fantastic mansion and the broad 
acres that surrounded it, to a long line of Scotts 
of Abbotsford, with various anecdotes of those 
above mentioned, and other notables of bygone 
days. 

Mr. Irving related with great glee an anecdote 
of James Hogg, the "Ettrick Shepherd," Avho in 
one of his early visits to Edinburgh, was invited 
by Sir Walter Scott to dine with him at his 
mansion in Otistle-street. Quite a number of 
the hterati had been asked to meet the rustic 
poet at dinner. When Hogg entered the draw- 
ing-room. Lady Scott, being in delicate health, 
was reclining on a sofa. After being presented, 
he took possession of another sofa opposite to 
her and stretched himself thereupon at full 
length, for as he afterwards said, " I thought I 
could do no wrong to copy the lady of the 
house." The dress of the "Ettrick Shepherd" 
at that time was precisely that in which any 
ordinary herdsman attends cattle to the market, 
and as his hands, moreover, bore most legible 
marks of a recent sheepshearing, tlie lady of the 
house did not observe with perfect equanimity 
the novel usage to which her chintz was ex- 
posed. Hogg, however, remarked nothing of all 
this — dined heartily and drank freely, and by 
jest, anecdote, and song, afforded great merri- 
ment to all the company. As the wine operated, 
his familiarity increased and strengthened; from 
" Mr. Scott" he advanced to " Sinrra" (Sheriff), 
and thence to " Scott," " Walter," and " Wat- 
tie," until at length he fixirly convulsed the 
whole party by addressing Mrs. Scott as "Char- 
lotte." 

In reply to our inquiry as to his opinion of 

* The Church Record, Chicago, Illinois, Dec. 15, 1859. 



ICHABOD CeANE. 



the poets of the present day, he said, " I ignore 
tliem all. I read no poetry written since By- 
ron's, Moore's, and Scott's." 



ANECDOTES. * 

BT FREDERICK SAUNDERS. 

Ekfereing to the inimitable story of Eip Van 
"Winkle, which was written, with other produc- 
tions, while the author resided at Ivinderliook, 
opposite Catskill, it is not a little remarkable that 
it should have proved so accurate and consistent 
in its local details; for when it was written, he 
had not visited the mountains. Some time after 
its publication, Mr. Irving was on a visit there 
for the lirst time, and, as is usual, tlie guide 
pointed out to him the scene of the redoubtable 
and drowsy Dutchman. lie also led him to the 
turn in the road at the entrance to a deep ravine, 
to "•Rip Van Winkle's House," over tlie entrance 
to which is an enormous sign representing '' Ki|) " 
as he awoke from his long "nap" in the Cats- 
kills, lie listened to the rehearsal of his own 
legend with exemplary patience, pleased to find 
his imaginary description of its locality so singu- 
larly verified by fact. He quietly retired without 
revealing himself as the autiior. As an evidence 
of the deep hold these legends have taken upon 
the popular mind, it may be mentioned that this 
cicerone found such good capital to be made out 
of his recital of the story, that, with the view of 
imparting something of oracular force to his nar- 
ration, he ])rofessed himself a lineal descendant of 
the veritable Rip Van AVinkle. 

Mr. Irving has never been a collector in the 
usual acceptation of the term ; his library does 
not contain many rare or curious specimens of 
bibliography ; it consists chiefly of standard his- 
torical works of reference, together with the best 
of tiie usual publications of tlie day. As may be 
supposed, his taste in books is fastidious and se- 
lect. We noticed a long series of the works of 
Scott, his fiivorite contemporary writer; and he 
had the last production of Dickens lying open 
upon his table. He has a choice assortment of 
foreign authors— Mr. Irving being an excellent 
French, German, and Spanish scholar. We also 
saw some elegant English ])resentation volumes, 
together with some tine editions of the classics. 

******* 
The ivy which is seen trailing over his study, was 



* From a [taper cntillod " Wasliin:;ton Irving — his Home 
and his Worlds" 



originally brought from Melrose Abbey, by Mrs. 
Fenwick, a friend of Irving's, and celebrated in 
song by Burns. This lady planted it at Sunny- 
side, and it now spreads over a large portion of 
the picturesque old house. It is very luxuriant 
and massive, as seen from the exterior of the 
building, and one of the objects of especial pride 
and value from its associations. In course of 
conversation, Mr. Irving spoke appreciatingly of 
the "multitude of clever authors of the present 
day," instancing some of the most prominent 
names ; but, he added, with strong emphasis, 
" Dickens is immeasurably above his contempo- 
raries, and David Co'pperjield is his master-pro- 
duction." Many times during our chat, we lis- 
tened to the delicious carolling of the birds which 
haunt these sylvan shades, and till the air with 
their melody. Mr. Irving said he could not ac- 
count for it, but the birds seemed fond of the 
place, ft)r tliey constantly made the air vocal 
with their delicate music. They also, or some 
other little fairies, seemed to have charmed away 
from the spot the suinmer-haunting mosquito, 
for we learned to our surprise they never made 
their appearance there. Two favorite dogs gam- 
bolled about the lawn, or stretched themselves at 
the feet of their master, who evidently took 
pleasure in their sportive and sprightly move- 
ments. 



ICHABOD CRANE. 

A LETTER FROM WASUINGTON IRVING. 

Tins pleasant letter of reminiscences appeared 
in the Kinderhooh Sentinel^ with the following 
introduction : 

" We have been favored witli the perusal of a 
letter recently written by Washington Irving to 
his old friend Jesse Merwin, of this town — the 
veritable ' Ichabod Crane,' whose name has been 
immortalized in 'The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.' 
Having been kindly permitted to transfer this 
communication to our colunms, we cheerfully do 
so, unwilling that our readers should be deprived 
of the gratilication which we have derived from 
its perusal. We trust that we shall not incur the 
displeasure of the distinguislied writer, in bring- 
ing him before the public, nor be considered as 
trespassing upon the precincts of unreserved, pri- 
vate epistolary intercourse. As for the ' Old Ad- 
miral of the Lake,' of piscatory memory, the 
redoubtable 'John Moore,' we have no fears to 
entertain for the mention made of him, he having 
long since ' shuffled otf this mortal coil,' and his 
scei)tre having passed into other hands." 

lix 



Cockloft Hall. 



SuNNTSiDE, Feb. 15, 1S51. 

Yon must excuse me, my good Iriend Merwin, 
for suftering your letter to remain so long unan- 
swered. You can have no idea how many letters 
I have to answer, besides fagging with ray pen at 
my own literary tasks, so that it is impossible for 
me to avoid being beliindhand in my correspond- 
ence. Your letter was indeed most welcome — 
calling up as it did the recollection of pleasant 
days i)assed together, in times long since, at Judge 
Van Ness's, in Kimleriiook. Your mention of 
the death of good old Dominie Van Ness, recalls 
the apostolic zeal with which he took our little 
sinful ftonmiunity in hand, when he put up for a 
day or two at the Judge's, and the wholesale cas- 
tigation he gave us all one Sunday, beginning 
with the two country belles, who came flattering 
into tlie school-house during the sermon, decked 
out in their city finery, and ending witli the Judge 
himself, in the stronghold of his own mansion. 

llow soundly he gave it to us ! how he peeled 
off every rag of self-righteousness with which we 
tried to cover ourselves, and laid the rod on the 
bare backs of our consciences! The good, plain- 
^[)oken, honest old man! llow 1 honored him 
fur his simple, straightforward earnestness; his 
Ijumely sincerity ! He certainly handled us with- 
out mittens ; but I trust we are all certainly the 
better for it. How diftVrent he was from the 
brisk, dapper, self-suthcient little apostle who can- 
tered up to the Judge's door a day or two after; 
who was so full of himself that he had no thought 
to bestow on our religious delinquencies ; who 
did Uotliing but boast of his public trials of skill 
in argument with rival preachers of other denom- 
inations, and how he had driven tliein ott" the 
field and crowed over them. You nmst remem- 
ber the bustling, self-contident little man, with a 
tin trumpet in the handle of his riding-whip, 
Avith which, I presume, he blew the trumpet in 
Zion ! 

Do you remeniber our fishing expedition, in 
conii)any with Congressman A^an Allen, to the 
little lake a few miles from Kinderhook; and 
John Moore, the vagabond admiral of the lake, 
who sat crouched in a heap, in the middle 
of his canoe, in tiie centre of the lake, with 
lishing-rods stretched out in every direction, 
like the long legs of a spider ? And do you 
remember our piratical prank, Avhon we made up 
for our bad luck in fishing by plundering his ca- 
noe of its fish when we found it adrift ? And do 
you remember how John Moore came splashing 
along the marsli on the opposite border of the 
lake, roaring at us, and how we finished our frolic 
by driving of!" and leaving tlie Congressman to 
John Moore's mercy, tickling ourselves with the 
idea of his being at least scalped ? 

Ah, well-a-day, friend Merwin, these were the 

Ix 



days of our youth and folly. I trust we have 
grown wiser and better since then; we certainly 
have grown older. I don't think we could rob 
John Moore's fishing canoe now. By the way, 
that same John Moore, and the anecdotes y«>u 
told of Iiim, gave me the idea of a vagabond char- 
acter, Dirck Schuyler, in my Knickerbocker^ His- 
tory of New York^ which 1 was then writing. 

Yon tell me the old school-house is torn down, 
and a new one built in its place. I am sorry for 
it. I should have liked to see the old scliool- 
house once more, where, after my morning's lit- 
erary task was over,' I used to come and wait for 
you occasionally until school was dismissed, and 
you used to promise to keep back tlie punishment 
of some little tough, broad-bottomed Dutch boy 
until I should come, for my amusement — but 
never kept your promise. I don't think 1 should 
look with a friendly eye on the new school-house, 
however nice it might be. 

Since I saw j'ou in New York, I liave had se- 
vere attacks of bilious intermittent fever, which 
shook me terribly ; but they cleared out my 
system, and I have ever since been in my usual 
excellent lioalth, able to mount my horse and gal- 
lop about the country almost as briskly as when 
I was- a youngster. Wishing you the enjoyment 
of the same inestimable blessing, and begging you 
to remember me to your daughter who penned 
your letter, and to your sou whom out of old 
kindness and companionship you have named 
after me, I remain ever, my old friend, yours truly 
and cordially, 

Washington Ieving. 

Jesse Merwin, Esq. 



"COCKLOFT HALL." 

A KEMINISOENOE.* 

An old resident of Newark, who signs himself 
K. W., gives to the Newark Advertiser some 
particulars about the "Cockloft Hall," mentioned 
in Irving's Sulmagvndi. The original building 
referred to under that title, it api)ears, is situ- 
ated on the Passaic river, between Belleville and 
Newark. It was known half a century ago as 
the "'Gouverneur Place," from which family it 
descended to Mr. Gouverneur Kemble (wlio was 
present at Mr. Irving's funeral), but for many 
years it was rented out to a respectable couple 
who acted as host and hostess to Irving, Paul- 
ding, and three or four others constituting their 
coterie. The house has been recently improved, 
but without materially altering its form and in- 
ternal arrangements. The Cockloft summer- 
house and the fish-pond mentioned by Irving 

* From the Evening Post, Dec. 12, 1S59. 



Irving Poetkaits. 



still exist, tlioiigli almost in ruins. K. W. thus 
describes the appearance of tlie sninnier-liouse 
as lie visited it in Anjjust last: 

"It was a small buildino;, standing not far 
from the river's brink, and near an artificial 
basin or pond, into which, as the tide was full, 
the Passaic was pouring some of its surplus 
waters through a narrow sluice. It was octago- 
nal in shape, about eighteen feet in diameter, 
containing only one apartment, with a door 
facing the river on the east, and having windows 
opening towards each of the other three cardinal 
points. It was built of stone, and had been 
originally weather-boarded, althougli most of 
the boards had fallen off. It had evidently been 
constructed with great care, being fully jdastered 
within and papered, having an ornamental cor- 
nice and chair-board, an arched doorway, and 
cut stone steps, — all indicating a fastidiousness of 
finish not ordinarily found elsewhere than in 
dwellings ; but it was far gone towards utter 
ruin, the window-sashes being all out, the door 
gone, and the mutilated wood-work showing it 
to 1>e a resort only of the idle and tlie vicious." 

The "Gouverneur Place," or Cockloft Hall, is 
at present occupied I)y Mr. Winslow L. Whiting. 
Mr. Irving, in a letter to the New Jersey His- 
torical Society, some time since, referring to the 
time he spent at this place, remarked: — "With 
Newark are associated in my mind many pleas- 
ant recollections of early days and of social 
meetings at an old mansion on the banks of the 
Passaic." 



IRVING PORTRAITS.* 

Mr. Irvin(/''s Letter to the JVew YorTc Mercantile 
Library Association. 

Of the thousands who have read with delight 
the i)roductionsof Wasiiington Irving's pen, com- 
paratively few have any correct idea of his per- 
sonal ai)i)earance. Of none of our public men 
have so few portraits be^in taken, at least of late 
years. The correspondence which follows gives 
the reason for this deficiency : 

Lrving requested to Sit for his Bust. 

Clinton Hall, November 2, 1854. 
My Dear Sir: I have been appointed, by my 
colleagues in the Board of Direction of the Mer- 
cantile Library Association, to express to you 
I heir earnest desire to possess some api)ropriate 
and enduring -memorial of the author of The 

* From the Evening Post, Nov. 30, 1S69. 



Sketch Book and the Father of American Litera- 
ture. 

The presence in this country of Mr. Randolph 
Rogers, formerly a merchants' clerk in New York, 
but of late years a student of art in Italy and 
now a sculi)tor of some note, has suggested to a 
few friends of the institution the idea of embra- 
cing the opi)ortunity to secure, if possible, for the 
merchants' clerks of this city, the marble bust of 
Washington Irving, — the diplomatist, thescliolar, 
and the author. The Mercantile Librarv Associ- 
ation, now firmly established as a permanent cen- 
tre of moral and intellectual influence over tlie 
young men of this metropolis (having a member- 
ship of nearly six thousand), would seem to be 
the fitting depository of such a work of art; and 
the clerks of New York, who have always paid 
their willing homage to the genius of our first 
great writer, may with reason present their re- 
quest to be allowed thus to honor him, who, in 
the dark day of our national literature, became 
our Washington, and answered triumphantly for 
himself and for his country the taunt — "' Who 
reads an American book ?" 

Commending the subject to your favorable con- 
sideration, and hoping that you may not feel com- 
pelled to withhold your consent, I am, my dear 
sir, very respectfully your obedient servant, 

Teank W, Ballard. 

Mr. Irving''s Rejyly. 

SuNNYSiDE, November 14, 1854. 

To Feank W. Ballard, Esq. — My Dear Sir : 
I cannot but feel deeply and gratefully sensible 
of the honor done me by the Mercantile Library 
Association in soliciting a marble bust of me to 
be placed in their new establishment. I am well 
aware of the talents of Mr. Randolph Rogers as a 
sculjjtor, and slu)uld most willingly stand to him 
for a bust, but I have some time since come to a 
fixed determination to stand or sit for no more 
likenesses, either in painting or sculpture, and 
have declined repeated and urgent solicitations 
on the subject. The last one I declined was from 
Mr. AVilliam B. Astor, who Avished it for the 
Astor Library. I offered him, however, the use 
of a model of a bust executed some years since by 
Mr. Ball Hughes, and which at tlie time was con- 
sidered by my friends an excellent likeness. Of 
tiiis Mr. Astor had a copy made (by, I think, 
Mr. Brown, of Brooklyn), which is now in the 
Astor Library. Should tlie Mercantile Library 
Association be disposed to have a similar copy 
made, the model by Mr. Ball Hughes, which is in 
the possession of one of my relatives, is at their 
disposition. 

In concluding, I would observe that, viewing 
the nature and circumstances of your institution 

Ixi 



Public Dinneks. 



and its identification with the deaj'est interest and 
sympathies of my native city, I do not know any 
one from which an api)lication of the kind you 
make would be more intensely gratifying. 

Accept, my dear sir, my thanks for the kind 
expressions of your letter, and believe me, very 
respectfully, your obliged and humble servant, 
Washington Irving. 



MR. 



IRVING' S OBJECTION TO PUBLIC 
DINNERS.- 



The last time we had the pleasure of seeing 
Mr. Irving was at the Publishers' Festival in New 
York, in the autunm of 1855. All who were 
present on that occasion will remember how 
fresh was liis api)earance, and how genial his 
manner, and with what a hearty welcome he 
greeted the friends, old and young, who thronged 
around him. Among the former was our towns- 
man, Mr. Moses Thomas, and in reference to the 
interview between these gentlemen, the American 
Publishers' Circular afterwards said : 

"One of the interesting incidents at the recent 
festival was the meeting of Washington Irving 
with his old friend, Moses Thomas, the veteran 
and much respected ex-publisher of Philadelphia. 
Mr. Irving, in liis younger days, had been inti- 
mate with Mr. Thomas, and cherished for him the 
highest regard ; but it so happened that they had 
not met for inore than a quarter of a century." 

A month or two later Mr. Irving addressed the 
following letter to Mr. Thomas, which Ave are 
tempted to reprint, as at once showing his disin- 
clination to public display, and his cordial recog- 
nition of the claims of private friendship. 

"80NNT8IDE, December 14, 1S55. 

" My Dear Thomas : I thank you heartily for 
your kind and hospitable invitation to your house, 
which I should be glad to accept did I proi)ose 
attending the Godey complimentary dinner ; but 
the annoyance I suffer at dinners of this kind, in 
having to attempt speeclies, or bear ccjmpliments 
in silence, has made me abjure them altogether. 
The publishers' festival, at which I had the great 
pleasure of meeting you, was an exception to my 
rule, but only made on condition that I would 
not be molested by extra civilities. 

"■ I regi-et tliat on that occasion we were sepa- 
rated from each,other, and could not sit together 
and talk of old times ; however, I trust we shall 
have a future opportunity of so doing. I wish, 
when you visit New York, you wouUftake a run 



* From the Philadelphia North Ameiican, Nov. 30, 1859. 
Ixii 



up to Sunnyside ; the cars set you down within 
ten minutes' walk of my liouse, where ray 
'women-kind' will receive you {figuratively 
speahing) with open arms; and my dogs will not 
dare to bark at you. Yours, ever very truly, 
" Washington Iuving. 

" Moses Thomas, Esq." 



ANECDOTE OF WASHINGTON IRVING. "- 

A friend of ours, who occupies a hn-dly man- 
sion in Tvventy-ni nth-street, near Fifth Avenue, 
was whilom a contractor lor building that sec- 
tion of the Crotou Aqueduct which passed 
through Tarrytown. Soon after he had erected 
a rude building for the reception of the tools and 
of the workmen, and to afford himself a tempo- 
rary shelter while engaged in his responsible, 
duties, an old gentleman, plainly dressed and of 
exceeding unpretending manners, presented him- 
self one day and commenced a conversation with 
o'ur friend. A great many questions were asked, 
naturally suggested by the then new enterprise 
of supplying New York city with water, and 
after a visit of an hour or so, the old gentleman 
quietly departed. A few days afterwards, accom- 
panied by two ladies, he again visited the head- 
quarters of our friend, and entered into a more 
detailed conversation, seemingly intent upon 
finding out all that was to be learned about the 
proposed aqueduct. These visits finally became 
a regular affair, and were continued twice a 
week, for a period of some six months. The 
conversations were always confined to local sub- 
jects, and not a remark escaped from the lips of 
the visitor which was calculated to inspire curi- 
osity, or suggest that he was other than some 
plain good-natured person, with plenty of time 
on his hands, who desired to while away an hour 
or two in commonplace chit-chat. In course of 
time our friend finished his labors at Tarrj-town, 
but occasionally met his old friend on the little 
steamers that serve to connect our suburbs with 
the heart of the city. One day, while travelling 
along the Hudson, and busily engaged in conver- 
sation with the old gentleman, the steamer sud- 
denly commenced pealing its bell, and made such 
a racket that our friend left his place, and hunt- 
ing up the captain, asked him "what all that 
noise was about ?" 

"Why," replied that functionary, "we are 
opposite Sunnyside, and having Washington 
Irving on board, by this alarm his servant will 
be able to meet liim at his landing with a car- 
riage." 

* From the Spirit of tliyi Times, Dec. 3, 1859. 



Literary Commissions. 



Onr friend, in great entliusiasm, exclaimed, 
"Washington Irving! Ae on board ; why, point 
him out to me; there is no man living whom I 
would more like to see." 

At tliis demonstration, tlie captain looked 
quite surprised, and remarked, " Why, sir, yon 
just left Washingt(m Irving's company, and from 
the number of times I have seen you in familiar 
conversation with him on this boat, I supposed 
you were one of his most intimate friends." 

The astonishment of our friend may be faintly 
imagined when he discovered that for more than 
a half year, twice a week he had had a long con- 
versation with Washington Irving, a person witli 
whom, more than any man living, he desired a 
personal introduction. 



TWO POEMS BY WASHINGTON IRVING.- 

The following is the little poem alluded to in 
the "Memoranda," descriptive of a painting by 
Gilbert Stuart Newton : 

An old philosopher is reading, hi this picture, from 
a folio, to a younof beauty who is asleep on a chair on 
the other side of the table. It is a fine summer's day, 
and the warm atmosphere is let in through the open 
casement. Irving wrote the lines at his friend New- 
ton's request. 

THE DULL LECTURE. 

Erostie age, frostie age, 

Vain all thy learning ; 
Drowsie page, drowsie page, 

Evermore turning. 

Young head no lore will heed, 
Young heart's a reckless rover, 

Young beauty, while you read, 
Sleeping dreams of absent lover. 



THE FALLS OF THE PASSAIC. 

In a wild, tranquil vale, fringed with forests of green, 
Where nature had fashioned a soft, sylvan scene, 
The retreat of the ringdove, the haunt of the deer, 
Passaic in silence roU'd gentle and clear. 

No grandeur of prospect astonish'd the sight; 
No abruptness sublime mingled awe with delight ; 
Here the wild flow'ret bldssom'd, the elm proudly 

waved, 
And pure was the current the green bank that laved. 

But the spirit that ruled o'er the thick tangled wood, 
And deep in its gloom flx'd its murky abode — 
Who loved the wild scene that the whirlwinds deform. 
And gloried in thunder, and lightning, and storm — 

All flush'd from the tumult of battle he came, 
Where the red-men encounter'd the children of flame, 
While the noise of the war-whoop still rang in his ears, 
And the fresh-bleeding scalp as a trophy he bears : 

* From The Neio York Book of Poetry, edited by Charles 
Fenno Hoffman. 



With a glance of disgust he the landscape snrvey'd. 
With its fragrant wild flowers, its wide-waviug shade ; 
Where Passaic meanders through margins of green, 
So transparent its waters, its surface serene. 

He rived the green hills, the wild woods he laid low ; 
He taught the pure stream in rough channels to flow; 
He rent the rude rock, the steep precipice gave. 
And hurl'd down the chasm the thundering wave. 

Countless moons have since roll'd in the long lapse of 

time — 
Cultivation has soften'd those features sublime — 
The a.\e of the white man has lighten'd the shade, 
And dispell' d the deep gloom of the thicketed glade. 

But the stranger still gazes, with wondering eye, 
On the rocks rudely torn, and groves mounted on high ; 
Still loves on the clitfs dizzy borders to roam. 
Where the torrent leaps headlong embosom'd in foam. 



AMERICAN LITERARY COMMISSIONS IN 

LONDON IN 1822. 

A Letter from Mr. Irving to Mr. John E. Hall, Editor 
of the " Port- Folio, ''^ now first printed. 

London, June 30, 1S22. 

My dear Sir: — I have received your letter 
of April 29th. The precious letter to which you 
alhide came to hand when I was in France, and 
I replied to it at some length, but it appears my 
reply never reached yon. The situation in which 
I was at the time, so for from London, put it out 
of my power to render you the services you re- 
quired. The proof-slieets of the Life of Anacreon 
whicli you say you forwarded, never were re- 
ceived. 

I have talked with Carpenter about your pro- 
posed work. He says the translation by Moore 
could not be published in the work without an 
infringement of his copyright, which of course 
lie could not permit. He says, however, that if 
the Life were well executed-, so as to be enter- 
taining and attractive, he should liave no objec- 
tion to treat with you about it; but that at the 
present day^ it is necessary that a work of this 
kind should be executed in a very masterly man- 
ner, as the age is extremely erudite and critical 
in such matters. 

I tliink if you have the MSB. or printed sheets, 
you had better transmit them to Mr. Miller and 
let him act as your agent with Carpenter, or any 
other bookseller that may be disposed to under- 
take the thing. Of course, if Carpenter is not 
the man, you will have to substitute other trans- 
lations instead of Moore's, which would be a 
disadvantage to the work. 

As to well-written articles concerning Amer- 
ica, there are various magazines that would be 
glad to receive contributions of the kind ; as a 
lively interest exists on the subject of America 

Ixiii 



Life aj^d Letters. 



and American literature. Your best way is to 
send your MSS. to Miller, and get him to dispose 
of tlieni to the best advantage, allowing him a 
percentage, both to repay him for his trouble, 
and to make it worth his while to take pains, 
lie is fully to be depended upon. The terms 
with the most popular magazines is from ten to 
fifteen or twenty guineas a sheet, according to 
the merit of the article and the reputation of 
the author's writings before they make any 
offer. 

I have handed the Conversations on the Bible 
to a young clergyman, a literary character, to 
read them and report on them ; I will then see 
if I can do any thing with the printers about 
them. There is such an inundation of work for 
the press, however, that you have no idea of the 
difficulty of getting any thing looked at by a 
publisher unless the author has an established 
name. 

The Spy is extremely well spoken of by the 
best circles, and has a very fair circulation ; not 
a bit better than it deserves, for it does the 
author great credit. The selections of the 
American poets is, I believe, by one of the Ros- 
coe family; the poets selected from are Paulding, 
the author of Yamayden, the author of i^a/wj^/i 
Pierpont, Bryant, and over ten others whose 
names do not at present occur to me. 

I shall leave London in the course of next 
week, for Aix la Ohapelle, where I propose re- 
maining sonre time to take the water, having 
been out of health for nearly a year past. Any 
thing you wish done at London, however, you 
will be sure of having well done by Mr. Miller. 
In sending proof-sheets, &c., do not send through 
the Post-office or Letter-bags, for the postage 
would then amount to pounds sterling^ and the 
letters, &c., remain unclaimed. Send large pack- 
ets by private hand. 

I wish, when you see Mr. Ewing,* you would 
remember me to him, as an old friend who 
would not willingly be forgotten by him. Tell 
him Anacreon Moore holds liim in honored 
remembrance. I am, my dear sir, 

Very sincerely, your friend, 

Washington Irving. 

John E. Hall, Esq., 
Editor of the Port-Folio, Philadelphia. 



Ixiv 



* Samuel Ewing, Esq., of Philadelphia. 



LIFE AND LETTERS OF IRVING. 

A MEMOIR of Mr. Irving may in due time be 
expected. His entire manuscripts and correspond- 
ence were left in the hands of Pierre M. Irving, 
who is admiral)ly adapted to the task. Such a 
memoir will aftord early sketches of New York 
society, and the first attempts of American liter- 
ature; it will bring out the details of Mr. Irving's 
life when abroad, and his social intercourse with 
the master-minds of Europe. And it may explain 
the magic of that power which subdued the fero- 
cious criticism of London and Edinburgh. At 
the time of Mr. Irving's first publication in Eng- 
land, the reviewer's den was as surrounded with 
the bones of American authors, as Doubting Gas- 
tie was with tliose of tlie pilgrims ; but old Ebony 
became tamed by the Western Orpheus, and re; 
laxing his teeth, explained himself by a figure 
from Comus: ''The genius of Mr. Irving has 
smoothed the raven down of censure till it 
smiled." Such a volume the public will look 
for with eagerness and read with delight. 

We have alluded to the high character of Mr. 
Irving's brothers, and need only add that it was 
shared by three sisters, all deceased. One of 
these married Henry Van Wart, an American 
merchant residing in Birmingham, England; 
another was married to the late Daniel Paris, 
attorney at law, and the third accepted the hand 
of Gen. Dodge, late of Johnstown, and now rests 
by his side in the old cemetery of that village. 

A year ago Mr. Irving made Ids will. It was 
written during some leisure weeks passed in the 
city of New York. As he proceeded to tliis final 
duty, it would seem that his youth and boyhood 
came before him. The place where he sat, |)en 
in hand, was then a desolate common, two miles 
distant from his fatlier's rural man.sion in Wil- 
liam-street. He remembered early acts of kind- 
ness and generosity, and his gushing heart pours 
out its utterances of atfiiction. None b'lt lie 
could have written such an instrument, and none 
can read it without emotion. It was penned in 
some sacred hour of retrospect and farewell, and 
its details should be sacred from the public gaze. 
Its main provisions refer to the establishment of 
Sunnyside as a permanent abode for the name 
and house of Irving. 

* Albany Evening Journal, Dec. 9, 1859. 



The End. 



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